Stunned
by the real snape
Summary: Set on the day MM is attacked by 4 stunners. Dumbledore fears an attack by death eaters. He asks Snape to use legilimency and find out. But when you ferret around in memories concerning MM you may find some surprises. femslash MM/? COMPLETE
1. THUD

**A/N** Rowlings created this world and all its characters. Headmistress X created a spectacular adult McGonagall in her story 'ancient magic'. 'Hauntingly beautiful' has become a cliché but this story truly is beautiful and her MM has haunted me. I decided to lay my ghost in this fanfiction, which will therefore contain very explicit M. in later chapters.

Please review, it's only my second effort and I could do with some help! And English is not my first language, all corrections are welcome!

She was running towards Hagrid when the young man pointed his wand. He actually pointed his wand at the Deputy Head of Hogwarts. But then he had always been an extremely silly boy.

T H U D

The impact. Shock. Reel back. Run again. Not true. Not happening. There is no world where Ministry Officials attack the Deputy Head. But then there should be no world in which that young idiot is a Ministry Official. Run harder.

T H U D

Nearly falling. Knees buckling. Nightmare. Cannot happen. Is not happening. Just run.

T H U D

Pain. Oh Merlin, the pain. Albus! Help. Somebody help. Am falling. Must not. The children. Must _not_ let the children see me fall. Must … not …

T H U D

But by then she was unconscious.


	2. The Kiss of Life

Where am I, she thought, what happened? Cold, grass, outside … Minerva. Ye Gods. No, not that, not Minerva!

Frantically she scrambled to her feet and started running towards the tall, slender figure that lay in a crumpled heap on the grass. She knelt down, felt for a pulse, for signs of breathing. Nothing. With deft hands she automatically put Professor McGonagall in the correct position and started artificial respiration.

I must see her as 'Professor McGonagall, she thought, not as my Min.

Breathe, check breast, count, breathe, check, count. Willing, begging, ordering Minerva to live.

Images were floating through her mind. Images of this very body, riding her, triumphantly beautiful. Of Minerva, spread-eagled on the bed, giving herself completely, daring to be vulnerable. Minerva, cursing fluently at a French shopkeeper. Minerva having a fit of the giggles over a particular dumb test paper.

Finally she saw Minerva's breasts fall and rise of their own volition. Only now did she allow herself tears, words. 'Min, my only love, my life, my everything. Don't go. Don't leave me.'

She heard the sound of footsteps, running towards them. Angry cries, people shouting. Soon she was surrounded by most of Hogwarts staff. 'It's a shame!' 'It's a bloody outrage!' 'Let's get her inside. Careful now!'

She was relieved to see that there was no need to hide the tears. Hers was by no means the only tear-stained face around. Quickly she ran ahead of the small procession, to the castle.


	3. A friend in need

**A/N** This chapter lacks attractive ladies. Please bear with me, nonetheless. And please, if you want to object on the grounds that it does contain Dolores Umbridge, seek professional help.

'I will _not_, I repeat _not_ accept Nymphadora Tonks!' thundered Professor Dumbledore, underlining each word with an uncharacteristic thump on the desk.

'My dear Albus,' simpered Dolores Umbridge, 'I am so certain that deep down you only wish to help us. Please try to be cooperative.' She smoothed her pink cardigan and smiled winsomely.

'I am _not_ your dear Albus, I am Professor Dumbledore. That is how my staff should address me. And I need no-one, least of all you, to tell me what I feel, be that deep down, on the surface or in any part of my body that you care to mention. And I _do not_ accept …'

Here he was interrupted by three meaningful knocks on the door. Since they were meaningful, they were open to many interpretations. To Dolores Umbridge they meant that Hogwarts, that she began to see as an evil entity of its own, was thwarting yet another near victory. Trust _that place_ to interrupt just as the blithering old idiot was running out of steam and starting to repeat himself.

To Albus Dumbledore they meant the presence of the one person he truly wanted to see, with the one thing he truly wanted to have. 'Enter, please,' he called, carefully keeping the relief out of his voice.

'You wished to see me, Headmaster?' The emotionless voice of Snape floated through the room. 'About that potion, I presume?'

Dolores Umbridge giggled. 'Excuse me, but it does seem to me that Professor Dumbledore and I are having a private conversation.'

'No, we are not. We just finished a professional talk. You can do as you wish. But I want it to be known that I formally object to Nymphadora Tonks. She is too young and too inexperienced.'

Not believing her luck Dolores smiled at Dumbledore, told him that she had always known that they would become great friends and hurried out of the room. Snape turned around to check that the door was closed and that all muffling spells were in place. Only then did he look at Dumbledore, smiled sardonically and said: 'I could make you a potion that would put a stopper … in her, if you like.'

'Not funny,' retorted Dumbledore. 'And I told you not to use that spiel with the first-years anymore. They are too impressionable.'

'It is because they are impressionable that it is such an excellent moment to tell them. But in view of Dolores' exit lines I should perhaps offer a potion to ensnare her senses?'

'Yech!' groaned Dumbledore. 'Did I tell you recently that you have a sick mind, Severus?'

'Indeed you did, Professor, as recently as yesterday. Filch came to complain about the artificial swamp left by the Weasley twins. He didn't know what to do with it, he said. I was making various helpful and, if I may say so, creative contributions. '

'You were, weren't you?' grinned Dumbledore.

'Yes, Headmaster, and you pointed out that I had a very sick mind indeed.'

'I did, didn't I? Well, you can redeem your eternal soul, if you like, by handing me that potion that you came to see me about. '

Snape retrieved a tall, green bottle from the folds of his robe. 'Ten year old Laphroaigh' he said, reverently placing the bottle in front of Dumbledore, who waved his wand. '_Accio_ tumblers,' he ordered.

For a while the two men sipped their whiskey in comfortable silence. Snape was the first to break it.

'So in the end you did manage to get a member of the Order involved in Minerva's protection?'

'Of course. I had hoped for Shacklebolt. Since he is not an old boy, Minerva might feel less protective and less responsible towards him. But Tops will make an excellent job of it.'

'Albus, I am not questioning your decisions, but … why do you want to get Minerva to St Mungo's? Isn't Hogwarts a safer place?'

'Yes it is!' said Dumbledore testily. 'But Minerva wants it herself.'

'Minerva wants to leave Hogwarts? Of her own free will?' Snape asked incredulously. 'I would think you'd had to drag her out kicking and screaming.'

'Yet she asked me to go to St Mungo's. She could not say much, mind you. But she said, I quote, 'please, Albus, St Mungo's.' I told her that she was too weak to be moved, too weak to talk even, that she should just rest. 'Too weak …yes …cannot let anyone see …'

I told her that she may be named after a goddess, but that it was about time to accept that she is, after all, human, human weaknesses included. But she said, not this, not now.'

'And that was a reason for you to let her override your decision?' Snape said, lifting an eyebrow.

'She cried, Severus,' Dumbledore replied mildly.

'Merlin's scrote, Albus, the woman blobs at every single graduation,' Snape snarled.

'True,' Dumbledore said. 'But did you ever see her cry for herself? Or even feel sorry for herself?'

Snape was silent for a moment.

'Damn,' he finally said. 'That bad, eh?'

'She begged, Severus.'

'Minerva begged! Just let me get my hands on the scum who did this, Albus, just let me!'

'I have no intention whatsoever to let you get your hands any dirtier than absolutely necessary. What you can do to help, however, is this. Minerva will be moved tomorrow. Tonight Poppy will keep a vigil. You will go into the sick ward, unobserved, and keep a vigil too. On the two of them. To keep yourself occupied, you will read as much of Poppy's mind as you can.'

'Bloody hell, Albus, have you gone mad? What reason can you have for this? What is it you want to know?'

'I don't know. It is better that you should not know either. Just tell me …'

'Tell you what, Albus?'

'What is it that Minerva is not telling me.'

'Not telling you about Pomfrey? You can't distrust Pomfrey! Really Albus, she is just one of those plump _maternal_ types.'

'I have to hand it to you, Severus, you are the only person I know who can pronounce an 8-letter word as if it were a 4-letter one. And you manage to hiss 'maternal'. Quite a feat for a word that has no sibilants in it. But yes, I am basically capable of suspecting anyone. And tell me, can you really be absolutely sure that you know what every Death-eater is doing in terms of, say, imperius-spells?'

Snape hesitated briefly. 'Ok' he finally said. 'I'll do it. Wish you would give me a nice, clean murder though, just occasionally.'


	4. Bella Lestrange

**A/N** **Warning** This chapter contains what I consider a description of rape (although a court of law might not agree with me). I have hesitated about it, but I need it to get all my characters where I want them in the next chapters (which will be cheerful ones, I promise). And even fanfiction is not always a fairytale. If you feel that such a subject is offensive, please don't read further. And let me make absolutely clear that the characters are J.K. Rowlings, but all events in this chapter are my responsibility.

Silently, Snape slid into the sick ward. He noticed Poppy, slumbering fitfully in her office. He hid himself behind a curtain and sighed. Well, he thought, let the show begin. Slowly he tuned into Poppy's thoughts.

_He stood in what clearly was the upstairs corridor of a modest country house. The first impression was one of quiet, traditional elegance. He started to look around, registering details, storing them away for future reference. At second glance, it was more faded glory than elegance. The carpets were of excellent quality, but worn through. The curtains were silk, but faded and even shredded in places. He thought, this house can do with a major injection of gold. Then he heard a clear, young voice._

'Why is your mother so angry at you?' the voice asked. Poppy looked at the young woman who was staying for a traditional Friday to Monday in the country. She thought Bella Lestrange looked very handsome and very self-assured. Poppy would love some of that assurance.

'It's because she wants me to date Lucius' she said. 'But I won't. I think he is horrid.'

'Well, he is a bit older than you' Bella admitted. 'And you're just eighteen, you will meet a boy you like.'

'I don't know,' Poppy whispered. Bella looked really kind and understanding. Perhaps she was someone you could ask …

'You know, I sometimes think all boys are horrid. I have never met one I really liked enough to … you know … to … kiss.'

'Well, perhaps you did not meet the right one. Or perhaps … ' Bella hesitated. Her eyes sparkled suddenly. 'Perhaps you like girls better. That can happen, you know! Some women are like that. '

'I … I… I never thought about that ' Poppy stammered.

'Well, ' Bella laughed 'It is either that or you are a frigid freak. And I am sure you are not. You must like either men or women. What you should do, is find out.'

'But how?' Poppy wailed. 'I do not know any women like that. How can I find out?'

'Yes ,' Bella replied. 'I see how that can be a problem. You need someone who likes you. Who is willing to let you try. And whom you can trust not to tell anyone. '

She was silent for a moment. 'Have you ever been … well, with anyone?' Poppy asked. 'Oh yes,' Bella said. 'And it is really, really good. There is a little pain at first, of course. There can be no pleasure without pain.' She licked her lips. Poppy noticed that she looked feverish. 'No pleasure without pain' she repeated. 'But that is only for a short while. Then it is great. Except for frigid freaks of course. They feel pain all the time. That is how you can tell. That someone is a freak, I mean.

Suddenly she gripped Poppy's arm. 'You know what?' she said, 'I will let you try. I know what to do. And you can trust me. Come'

Before she could protest, Poppy was pushed inside her own bedroom. 'Come.' Bella repeated. Poppy felt the back of her knees hit the bed. She toppled backwards. Bella threw her robe over her head. She felt her tug her panties down, felt Bella's knee push her legs apart. 'Come on, cooperate. You should thank me for doing this.' Bella said.

For a brief moment, Poppy felt Bella's fingers against her entrance. Then Bella pushed and she gasped. It hurt! God, it hurt. And hurt. And hurt. Suddenly Bella stopped pushing. Poppy heard her say, in a strangled voice quite unlike her normal clipped cut-glass tones, 'So, that was the _little_ bit of hurt. Just the _little_ bit. You see? I knew you would not be a frigid freak. You can't be, if you want me to go on. And you do want that, don't you?' Poppy lay rigid with fear and pain. _Frigid freak, frigid freak_. The words pounded in her head. 'Do you?' Bella repeated louder. 'Yes' Poppy whispered. Please let her not be a freak. Please let it be all right.

Suddenly Bella pushed her fingers inside her, hard and deep. Poppy felt a soaring pain. And it went on and on and on and it kept hurting. She bit in her robe to stifle her cries. At last it stopped.

'Get up' Bella said, sounding cool and clipped again. 'And show me your bathroom. Come on, hurry, or your mother might see you like this. Is that the bathroom?' Bella pointed. There was blood on her fingers. Poppy nodded, not trusting her voice. Without really registering anything she saw that Bella's other hand was wet too. Not with blood though. Bella washed her hands and sashayed out of the room.

'See you at dinner.'

The door fell shut. Only then did Poppy begin to sob.

_Carefully, Snape withdrew from Poppy's mind. He looked around the sick ward, looking for an appropriate door. He found one. He tiptoed to it, opened it and shut it soundlessly behind him. Then he knelt over the lavatory and was violently sick._

_With watering eyes he rinsed his mouth afterwards. If you had a shred of decency left, he thought, then you would leave that poor little thing alone. But decency is a luxury a spy cannot afford. What you see here is a possible case of an imperatus curse by Bella. Or blackmail by Bella. It is a possible reason to hate the whole world, even. So the show must go on._

_Slowly, reluctantly he crept back into the room. I can't, he thought. I really can't do this anymore._

_Suddenly he had an idea. Who had inspired generations of students with a strong sense of duty? Who could give even the most terrified child the idea that all was well in an increasingly evil world? Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Head of Hogswart. Of course. A few quiet minutes looking at her would sort him out. If she was asleep, he might even try to get a piece of her mind. _

_Quietly he made his way to her private sickroom._

**A/N** As I am very insecure about writing this, would you please, please be so kind to review? If only to tell me whether I should write 'If she _was_ asleep, he might try' or 'If she _were_ asleep, he might try' Thank you so much in advance. And next chapter will be a very cosy one, promise!


	5. A dab hand with pastry

**A/N** All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. The 'list of lines' mentioned in this chapter belongs to Headmistress X. If you want to have a smile on your face for the rest of the day, read it. You will find it in both her stories. The two suggested additions in this chapter are mine. It was, again, the story Ancient Magic that inspired this chapter particularly.

_Snape looked at Minerva. She was soundly asleep. Soundly enough to risk it. Carefully he tuned in._

Minerva was crossing the Quidditch field. It was cold, dark and drizzling uncomfortably. She was thinking about her third year transformation class of that day. Young Longbottom really was more and more of a problem. Such a clear, feasible assignment. 'Take this toad and transform it into a musical instrument of choice.' Who but Longbottom would be stupid enough to leave the choice with the toad? Naturally, the sensible animal had tried to escape. Longbottom had waved his wand aimlessly (but not quite aimlessly enough) and had tried to mutter 'musical instrument'. It had come out as 'mealy instrument'. Thanks to her own rapier-quick transformation spell it had ended with a bag of oatmeal, the first word that had come to her mind, rather than a bag of flour. Still, the ensuing mess had necessitated several cleaning spells, a few McGonagall Looks to quell the sniggers and a quite complicated transformation-with-built-in-repair spell to get the toad back. Even she could not collect all the bits of oatmeal to form the original animal. Lucky that it hadn't been flour. And, draining as such a spell was, it was better than telling Hagrid that one of his 'sweet little creeters' would not return. She'd had have to listen to a eulogy including childhood, early years and several most unlikely endearing characteristics of an animal probably called 'sweetie pie' or some such nonsense. 'How do I reach that boy', she thought. 'What other way is there to explain it? Have I really tried everything?' She considered the various explanations she had used in the past, the different images, and the examples. 'Am I losing my touch or should I just give up on him? But I can't give up on the boy, I just can't. There must be a way.'

She looked up toward the window of her private rooms. There was a warm light. She smiled.

_Most disappointing, Minerva, Snape thought. Twice disappointing. Firstly, a mature adult does not leave on a light to create a 'homey' feeling. There is no such thing as a 'home' at Hogwarts. Just rooms where you spend your sleeping hours. Nor is there a 'home' anywhere else, for that matter. Now, that is truly a four-letter word. Home indeed! He remembered his parent's house, full of arguments, pent up aggression, dark moods. He remembered the Orders headquarters and Molly's silly attempts at housewifely behavior. Home indeed! A place where, if you are invited to dinner at all, everyone thinks 'No, no, leave!' so damn loud you don't need legilimentis to hear it._

_Secondly, he thought, for Snape was nothing if not methodical, there is no such thing as a boy you can't give up on. A student is simply a case that has to be analyzed carefully and then solved rationally. And Longbottom is by no means the worst. He recalled that small Hufflepuff, what was his name again? Lindon, that was it. Burnt the bottom out of more cauldrons than you could find in all of Diagon Ally. A total waste of space in practically every classroom. Careful analysis had revealed a decided talent to work with Muggles though. The one subject in which he excelled. Which led, of course to a rational solution. He had needed all his clout as ex star pupil and as current Head of Slytherin, as well as a wickedly expensive box of candied pineapple, but he had managed to get Lindon in his snug bolt hole of a job at the Department for Muggle affairs. A rational solution. And no risk that the old spider-in-the-web would blow his cover. Not one for sharing glory, that one. So, a neat, rational solution even. _

_He tuned in to Minerva again. She had now reached the last landing before her private rooms. She was smiling, and there was a slight spring back in her step. _

_Suddenly there was a blaze of warm light. The door had opened, and out came the Pomfrey woman. Snape stared. Ferreting around in Minerva's private rooms and being caught red-handed? Sparks would fly. More than anything, Snape enjoyed Minerva's acerbic tongue and now he was in for a treat. Pity it had to be Poppy though, after what he just had seen._

'Nine o'clock! My love, what a beast of a day this must have been' Poppy said. Minerva smiled tiredly. 'It was rather appalling, my dear,' she sighed. 'Thank Merlin I am home.'

_To Snapes utter astonishment, she let herself sink in Poppy's outstretched arms. Snape felt her relax, he felt her abandon all thought, he felt her give herself over to Poppy's embrace, he felt the tenderness of Poppy's arms envelop her like a warm blanket. He then felt his own heart pound madly and realized that he might be sharing Minerva's mind, but that his body still needed oxygen. He gulped in some air, waited for his breathing to become regular again and returned. _

'…a hot bath ready' Poppy said, leading Minerva indoors. 'With lavender oil, it'll soothe you. '

'And something smells very good.' Minerva smiled.

'Oh, that' Poppy said. 'I found a bottle of that Banyuls from our last holiday and I thought that some chocolate cake would go well with it. '

'The one with the Grand Marnier and the slivers of orange peel? That tastes partly of chocolate mousse and partly of heaven?'

'Of course, my love, I know that it's your favorite. Gilderoy Lockheart was boasting this morning that he had 'been of assistance to you in solving a small problem'. And yet I did not have to heal him today. So, for self-control above and beyond the call of duty, you deserve this, Min.'

No, I do not, Minerva thought, her eyes pricking suddenly. I do not deserve this lovely, warm, funny, spectacular woman. I am just so, so lucky.

'You spoil me rotten' she said gruffly, not quite trusting her voice.

'Yes, and I love every minute of it' Poppy replied. 'Now get yourself into that bath while it is still hot. I'll open the bottle.

The rest of the evening was spent by the hearth, a cheerful fire crackling. There was laughter and light banter and mild gossip on staff members and others. There was talk of a holiday obviously discussed before. Tentative plans were laid, possible routes suggested. A map came out.

'Look, we would be quite close to that lovely hilltop village' Poppy pointed out. 'You remember it, Min? With that nice little _auberge_? They had the bed with the wrought-iron bed head. '

'The one that shrieked like a banshee?'

Poppy chuckled.

'Yes, but it was wonderfully soft. I dare say you remember that too. And those lovely lavender fields outside. Anyhow, that is what muffling spells are for.'

Minerva arched an exquisite eyebrow. 'Muffling spells are for lavender fields? I see that there is still much I have to learn, my dear. By all means, we must return there.'

She glanced at the clock.

'Better head for bed now. It will be another long day tomorrow. I have summoned the Weasley twins first thing after breakfast and I have yet to assign them some lines.'

'Not those twins again?' Poppy exclaimed. 'They never give you a moment peace. What did they do this time?'

She rose to put the empty glasses in the sink.

'They put a notice on Sybil's door,' Minerva replied.

Surprised, Poppy turned around. 'That does not sound so serious, does it? she queried. Then she saw Minerva's mischievous grin and sparkling eyes.

'What did that notice say, my love?' she asked.

'It said', said Minerva, carefully wiping the grin off her face and sounding and looking at her most professorial, 'it said: Trelawny's Tearoom. Which tart would you like to fill?'

For one moment, the witches looked at each other. Then they both roared with laughter.

'Absolutely priceless' hiccupped Poppy. 'And definitely one for the list! You know, Min, you really should give Gryffindor five points for creative use of language.'

'I would love to' Minerva grinned. 'But I will do second best: I will let them get away with just one hour detention.'

Poppy put her arm around the older woman's slender waist. 'Come' she whispered, 'I know which tart I would like to fill…'

_Exit the witches; enter the Hag, Snape thought. No-one calls McGonagall a tart and lives. We'll sooner see the Forbidden Wood walk to the castle. To his surprise, he heard a rich, throaty laugh. A laugh that stirred something deep in his abdomen._

'You are indeed a dab hand with pastry, my dear' Minerva said, licking the last crumb of chocolate cake off her finger. 'A very dab hand. And especially with tarts, if I may say so.'

Arms around each other, the two women went to the bedroom.

_Right, this is absolutely, unquestionably, the moment where you leave, Snape thought, staying firmly where he was. _

_He watched breathlessly as Minerva undid the buttons of Poppy's robe and slid it to the ground. 'Plump' had been such a very wrong word. 'Sensuous' perhaps, or 'voluptuous'. Yes, 'voluptuous', that was a much, much better description of those lovely curves. Then Minerva quickly undid her own robe and stepped out of it. Snape felt his eyes bulge and his mouth fall open. Ye gods, she was gorgeous. She was fucking fantastic. Those softly rounded shoulders, those beautiful, firm breasts. Not too big nor too small, Snape, that experienced observer of detail, judged, but a lovely handful and in perfect harmony with the slender body. He let his eyes glide down the flat, toned belly, down the seemingly endless legs. Her legs! Sainted Merlin in an oak tree! Why did she hide all that under those prim, crisp green robes? Her position brought its restraints, of course, but surely she could dress a bit more alluring. On the other hand, if she showed only half of this no student would remember how to hold a quill, never mind constructive thinking. _

After a long, lingering kiss Poppy draws Minerva to the bed. 'Lean back and enjoy yourself, my love' she whispers. With slow butterfly kisses she traces her way to Minerva's breasts, kissing each one, finally circling the hard nipples with her tongue. Minerva arches her back, groaning with pleasure. 'Poppy, please' she begs. 'No rush darling, no rush at all' she hears. Tantalizingly slowly Poppy kisses her way down. With her tongue she rubs the little knob at Minerva's center. Softly, with one finger, she checks that Minerva is quite, quite ready. Minerva feels Poppy's fingers slide in, stretching her, filling her completely, then, miraculously, finding room to move, to wiggle, falling in with the rhythm of Poppy's tongue. 'Oh yes, please, yes' she moans and then thoughts fall away and there is only feeling and soaring pleasure.

She shudders for a long time afterwards, feels Poppy stretch herself behind her, spooning into her back. 'Let me ...' she starts. 'Hush, my love, this is all I want ' Poppy whispers. 'Really my dear? So I cannot tempt you to…' Minerva reaches behind her, lets her fingers find Poppy's core. She hears her ragged breaths, feels Poppy kiss her neck, biting, sucking, and then groaning as she comes.

'I am afraid I gave you quite a love mark.' Poppy says.

'One more reason to look forward to the holidays' Minerva answers. 'I can wear low necklines then!'

_Snape nods understandingly. Restrictions brought on by the job, just as he thought._

Minerva feels herself drift off to sleep, utterly warm, fulfilled, safe. And this, she thinks, this bed, these arms around me, this is the only place where I can feel that way. Not Professor McGonagall, Example to All, just your Min.

_Snape waited till his legs were in working order again. He staggered out of the room. In the corridor, he leaned against the wall._

'_Wow'_

'_Strewth'_

'_Bloody hell'_

'_You really are the world's premier louse for watching that, Snape.'_

_For the second time that evening he had something tall and hard under his robes and this time it was not a bottle of whiskey._

_He had no idea that a woman's orgasm could last that long. Observer of detail that he is, he had noticed how, afterwards, Poppy placed her hand on Minerva's still swollen sex. He had seen the three middle fingers press down softly. Each soft press had caused another shudder, until Minerva was finally spent. He carefully stored those details for future reference._

_That was a brilliant lesson, dear Professor, he thought. The most interesting transformation I have ever seen. And definitely one little tidbit he would not tell Albus. Albus just might mention it to Minerva one day. And Snape knew with absolute certainty that at that moment Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin, would cease to exist. Only Young Severus would be left, in for the detention of a lifetime. _

_Tentatively he tried out a few lines, finally settling on:_

_I must not call Professor McGonagall 'Sex on legs'. Not even if I have watched her reach a screaming orgasm._

_Still, you are the world's premier louse, Snape. The premier louse, the premier louse, the premier lou-hou-hou-hou-house. Humming under his breath he made his way to Poppy's office._

**a/n** This is my first attempt at a bed-scene. I could really do with some feedback!


	6. Filthy Habit

**A/N** Reviews are always a wonderful gift, I think. Especially when reviewers are as kind as Kelly Chambliss, really bothering to think along with you and to point out where you fail in making your characters' motives clear.

I have incorporated her suggestions to the best of my ability. I hope you will accept this, Kelly, both as a motivation for Snape's behaviour and as a little tribute.

--

Snape glanced at Poppy, still slumbering fitfully. Damn you, Albus, he thought. Reluctantly he tuned in.

_She was running towards Hagrid when the young man pointed his wand. He actually pointed his wand at the Deputy Head of Hogwarts. But then he had always been an extremely silly boy. _

_T H U D_

_The impact. Shock. Reel back. Run again. Not true. Not happening._

Snape withdrew as if he had burnt himself. No need to watch that. He had already seen it happening, that very afternoon. The look on her face, turning from anger to utter horror as the first stunner hit Minerva. The way she had clasped her throat, bending double as if she felt Minerva's pain at the third impact. How she had fainted before the fourth. What had she felt in those last seconds? Panic at betraying, in front of those children, an emotion she should not feel for 'just a colleague'? And he, bastard that he was, had despised her for her weakness. He remembered the professionalism, the deftness just minutes later. Could he have done it? Could he have seen _her_ dying before his eyes and then have acted so composedly? For one brief moment he pictured the beloved face, the sparkling green eyes, the auburn hair dancing on the wind. _Lily. Oh , Lily. _

He should wake her up, really. Not let her live through it again. But what could he say? 'Wake up Poppy, you have a nightmare. Only it isn't a nightmare, it has really happened and the love of your live lies badly injured in the next room. Oh, and by the way, I know that because I have been peeping at your innermost secrets all night.' Not a good idea. She would soon be at the point where Minerva started breathing again. Better leave it.

Snape lowered himself against the wall and closed his eyes. I will _not_ do this, he thought. Not here, not now. Not ever again?

'Filthy habit.'

He heard the gruff voice so clearly, that he looked up, half expecting to see the sturdy figure standing in front of him. Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank. Now that had been an evening to remember. His mind sprang back to Rosmerta's taproom.

The cozy, smoky taproom had been filled with the usual 'Thank God it is Friday' buzz. Everyone knows that teaching is an exceptionally worthwhile and fulfilling profession. A vocation really. Teachers know that at the end of the week they can look back at a job well done and can do with a drink.

This evening, the buzz was even louder than usual. Professor Grubbly-Plank gave a little farewell party after her spell as replacement teacher for Hagrid. Snape had been in his usual solitary corner, listening to the conversations going on around him, occasionally amusing himself by thinking up answers, funny retorts, by imagining himself in one of those groups, really _sharing_ a drink.

'Filthy habit.' Wilhelmina looked around her fiercely. 'Never could stand it myself. Just not done. Ferreting around in other people's minds!'

She smoked her pipe almost aggressively, sending great clouds to the already darkened ceiling. Snape could feel the stares of the whole group. Slowly, one by one, he looked at them. As his basilisk glare circled the room, eyes were suddenly averted. Ceiling, Quidditch pictures, glasses, the tap, everything seemed to be of quite uncommon interest. Inwardly, he smiled grimly. Staring at arguably the greatest legilimens of the wizarding world is one thing; actually making eye contact is quite something else.

Suddenly he looked straight into two piercing eyes above a stern jaw.

'My hat you're admiring, Snape?'

The woman had guts; he had to give her that.

'No, Wilhelmina,' he drawled. 'Just your enormous capacity for illogical opinions.'

'Meaning?'

'It is a well-known fact that smoking is a most unhealthy habit, both for oneself as for others. In fact, every well-educated wizard could tell you why it is a bad habit. And, in the case of that particularly pungent, nay, foul tobacco of yours I might even, for once, be the voice of the silent majority in calling it an utterly filthy habit indeed.'

'Your point is?'

'My point is, my dear Wilhelmina, that after giving the anti-smoking spiel, the well-educated wizards split in two groups. The likes of me, who truly find it the most disgusting thing imaginable, and the people who will still light a pipe several times a day, as automatically and unthinkingly as I have a cup of coffee. Because it is a habit, because you do it daily, you can actually light that pipe without so much as a thought about all the reasons against it.'

Wilhelmina was silent for a moment. Then, to his surprise and, by the look of her, to her own surprise as well, she nodded briefly.

'May have a point there.'

She had turned away from him then, had ordered the next rounds of drinks very quickly. And had actually sought his eyes again and, very briefly, had raised her glass to him. It had been a good moment. The best, in fact. An evening at the pub with friends.

Not with friends, you fool. Merlin's scrote, what is wrong with you tonight? At least, be honest with yourself. Rational. Logical. Don't go around despising Minerva for what you thought was 'playing happy homes' with that lighted window, and then imagining that you have cozy pub nights. Playing Happy Snape and his Merry Band of Friends.

'But that is what you do every time', said a little voice in his head. A voice that he liked to call the voice of reason. 'That is what you do each and every time you read people's minds. Collecting happy evenings, meals shared, Christmases celebrated together, coffee corner chats, for crying out loud. That's how pathetic you are!'

I do not harm anyone's health, he thought. People never know it, never feel it, _I_ do not hurt _them_.

'You try flying a mile with my broom, Wilhelmina.' He murmured. 'You try solitary drinks, averted eyes, a room full of 'colleagues' willing you to leave. You try bleakness. You try being me!'

He heaved a deep sigh.

'What do you think you are doing here?' a clear voice asked.

He looked up in surprise. Surely, that sigh could not have woken her?

'Albus asked me to stay around for a while. Keep an eye on you both. Just in case … I did not wake you, I hope?'

'Of course you did,' she said matter-of-factly. 'I'm a Mediwitch, for heaven's sake. I am used at waking at the slightest sound.'

_You should have foreseen that one! Pull yourself together man, you're slipping up unforgivably._

'How is Minerva?' he asked.

'All right, under the circumstances. It's just the circumstances that are …' Poppy's voice trembled. 'Four stunners, all direct hits. You know how one stunner can make you shake for hours. Ever felt it Severus? The way your heart pounds? Four … and at her age … she nearly died of it …'

'I know.' Snape said. 'You were absolutely brilliant. If it had not been for you … She must feel … rather uncomfortable at the moment. I have been hit by a stunner in the past. As you say, pounding hart, shaking uncontrollably, I even got … unpleasantly emotional.'

You would find emotions unpleasant; you've an ice pick for a heart, Poppy thought. Calmly, she said:

'She is under a mild sedation spell right now. She'll come round soon enough. The main thing will be to keep her calm and quiet then, we can't go on with the spells, she's too weak for that too. I was just going to get a coffee and then I'll wait for her to come round. Had to grab some sleep while I could, I need my strength for the rest of the night. I guess you don't want any coffee?'

_This is your dismissal, Snape. A polite refusal is in order._

'Actually, I'd love some coffee,' he heard himself say.

'Oh. Well. How do you take it, then?'

'Black, please, no sugar.'

'Yes, that is what I would expect.' Poppy conjured up a mug of steaming black coffee and a very weak latte. Better not risk anything stronger, she thought. Once Minerva had been safely tucked in bed, sedated and sleeping, the full impact of the night had hit her. She had been violently sick. A weak latte would be just the thing.

_And I had you down as a typical hot milky drink type._ Snape checked himself at once. _Twice today, you've misjudged her completely. Stop it, you prat!_

He suddenly felt an irresistible urge to say something kind to the worried woman facing him. The woman with whom he actually was having a coffee corner chat. He really was slipping up unforgivably.

'She'll be just fine, you know. She's tough. And you truly did a brilliant job. If … eh … if she starts worrying about her students, tell her I'll keep an eye on them. Young Longbottom especially. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself. He can be a bit accident-prone, at times. And I'll make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid. He may not be over furnished in the brains' department but he's a nice enough lad. We would not want him to try and transform the Giant Squid in a m…' _Not 'musical instrument, you fool! You're not supposed to know about Longbottom and that toad! _'In a most unholy mess.'

The pause had been infinitesimal, barely longer than his usual drawl.

Poppy remembered a story Minerva had told her, some years ago now. One brief moment, she imagined the lake as the biggest bowl of porridge in the history of the world. She smiled. It surprised her that she actually could smile at a moment like this. That she could feel a little spark of warmth. She could suddenly believe that Min would get well again, that normal life would start again.

'I'll tell her. I kn… I think I may have overheard her express some concern once. Well, it was nice chatting with you.' To her surprise, she realized this was true. She felt all the better for having had that little chat with Severus. 'I had better go and see her now.'

'Right. Thanks for the coffee. I'll just hang around for a bit. Albus' orders, you know.'


	7. Mobilihairbrush I

Poppy entered Minerva's room and checked her patient. Pulse and breathing were much better. She even had a bit of color in her face, not that terrible paleness. Poppy double- and triple checked. Minerva was really doing fine. Given the circumstances, of course, but any healer would declare her out of danger. Poppy checked again, smiling at herself for doing so. Yes, she would have that talk with Albus in the morning. Arrange for things. And, of course, there was the small matter of explaining to Min. But that really was a small matter now. As Poppy sat down by the bed, she felt … no, nothing remotely like gladness or happiness, that was impossible. But at peace with herself. Yes. And whole.

A slight change in the rhythm of Min's breath. She was coming round.

'Where … what …' She began to shake.

'Stay still, my love, you'll be all right. Just stay still and relax, I'm here, you're perfectly safe.'

'I can't … I …' Uncontrollable shaking now. 'What have they done to me … Poppy!'

Poppy felt her heart shrink at the sheer panic in Min's voice, the look of despair. She forced herself to stay calm, to hold Min very carefully, showing nothing but competence and reassurance.

'What they did was hit you four times with a stunner, my love. Shaking is a normal symptom. So is a pounding heart. Those two combined create a feeling of utter panic and despair. It'll get better when you relax. Just relax, my love. As you would with a devil's snare attack. Relax utterly.'

She felt Minerva relax slightly, then stiffen again.

'I can't … I'll just start … ' The strangled voice of one desperate not to cry.

'Yes, you can. And yes, when you do, it will make you cry. That is not "giving in", Min, it's simply called "being very ill."

Finally Minerva relaxed. For a long time Poppy held her, murmuring softly, gently, until the tears stopped. Poppy summoned a handkerchief. 'Here, blow'.

Thank Merlin, a flicker of irritation instead of the black despair.

'I do not need …' Another sob, another shake.

'Yes, you do need help blowing your nose. Being ill is full of small indignities, love. I know that, other than that twisted ankle, you have little experience with it…' Another shake, stronger this time. '…and that you hate to be reminded even of that, but you'll just have to accept it. When you move, the shaking and pounding starts again. So blow. '

Minerva blew. Carefully Poppy lowered her on the pillow.

'Feeling slightly less awful now?' she asked.

'Yes… Stay …Please …'

'Of course I will stay with you. All night. Just keep calm and relaxed.'

'At least you do not say: 'Are _we_ feeling _comfortable.'_

'Not my style,' Poppy smiled. 'And certainly not yours, Min. No Mediwitch would say that to you. Most of us like our lives, you know.'

Another fit of shaking. 'Poppy, I've been so foolish.'

'Relax, love, you are never foolish. Just tell me very calmly.'

'I asked Albus for a transfer to St Mungo's. I felt so weak. He was sitting there and all I wanted was to cry for you. He would have known at once, I … what have they done!?'

'Four stunners, love, that's what. What you feel is all normal, Min. And it _will_ go away. I know you cannot imagine that now, it feels as if they have changed you forever, doesn't it?'

A little nod, that look of despair again. Poppy suddenly felt a roaring anger against those insane, criminal… words failed. She had a brief mental picture of cursing every bone out of their bodies and then pumping them with Skele-Gro. But she kept her voice calm and reassuring.

'Well, they haven't. You'll feel much better a week from now. I dare say they will let you out of bed by then. In a few weeks' time, you will be back at Hogwarts and you'll be every inch the Professor McGonagall we know and love. And the Min I know and love, dearest.

'And as for asking for a transfer, all you did was be a bit quicker than I was. I was going to ask Albus exactly the same thing. For several reasons.

'First of all, you need complete rest. As in total absence of stress, worries, problems, work. And you'll never get that here. You would not let yourself rest completely and neither would Hogwarts. Why, it won't take a day or the first student will ask for you, thinking that yes, of course you are not in the sick ward for nothing, but this is really, really important. And you would agree with him and I would have to tie you to the bed and put several nasty spells on you.

'And I would hate that Min, that's another reason. You know that healers should never heal their own family if it can be avoided. To heal, I need to be calm, objective, analytical. I need to distance myself from my patient. I should not check every action four times, just because it's you. You're better off at St Mungo's.'

'That's nonsense. You saved my life, Albus told me. Without you … how can I begin to thank…'

'Now look who's talking nonsense. There is to be no 'thanking' between us, love. You have healed me in more ways than this. In more ways than I have ever been able to tell you, even. So hush, let me finish. You were quite right Min, you are too ill right now to keep up appearances. And once you're back on your feet again, you would hate that. No need to upset an apple-cart that we have steered carefully for 27 years now. You'll go to St Mungo's and you'll be just fine.'

'But you won't be there. And when I think of not seeing you, I just cannot relax anymore.' More shaking.

'You will be a bit better in the morning, my love. If you keep very calm now. And of course I'm not sending you away like that. I've packed your things for you …'

'Thanks. Albus said he would but …'

'Absolutely. He'd forget everything important. Albus and packing. Really, you try to think of them as human beings, but at the end of the day they're just men.'

A hint of a smile this time, that almost reached Minerva's eyes. 'What did you pack, then?'

Poppy summoned a small package from the tartan travelling case nearby. She opened it and held it up. It was a picture, clearly taken in the south of France. A lavender field baking under the sun. 'Do you remember, Min?' she asked.

'Yes. Of course I remember. The day you taught me why muffling spells are for lavender fields.' A real smile this time. 'An excellent lesson, if I may say so, my dear. A very clear demonstration with lots of practice for your student.'

'And you showed me a thing or two on transfiguration that day. I had no idea you could do that with lavender bushes. And you were right, as Nature grows them, they do not make comfortable bedding. As for retransfiguring them afterwards, I don't know how you managed, but I am glad you did. What would the poor Muggles have thought? They would have been so upset about those – what did Arthur Weasley call them? – crop rounds, no, crop circles.'

'Oh, compared to what the students make, this was a small mess. And I checked Arthur's story. It was somewhat exaggerated, my dear. It is in fact a only a very small minority of Muggles who have those funny ideas. Most think they are simple pranks by Muggle boys, actually.'

Poppy smiled at Minerva and kissed her softly. 'I love you, Min,' she whispered. For checking Arthur's crazy Muggle stories, she thought. For teaching the way other people breathe. For wanting to make endless, exquisite love in a lavender field.

'It was such a beautiful day. And you found a picture I can actually put on view at the hospital, to remind me of it. I thought there only was that one with…'

'Well, that is the real surprise. Look.' Poppy reached for a wand from the bedside table, pointed it at the picture.

'For my eyes only,' she whispered, pointing the wand at the small frame. The picture blurred briefly, and then focused again. This time, in the middle of the picture, a somewhat disheveled Poppy laughed lovingly at the photographer. There were little bits of lavender in her hair and she was just putting on a shirt. There were various items of clothing lying in the background.

'That shirt smelt of lavender for days. And you too, my love. I spent the next nights with my face in your hair, lavender all around me. You all around me. You'll have this picture to remind you of all that. Of real life, Min, _our _life.'

'How did you manage that? How wonderful. May I … You are using my wand!'

'Of course, my dear. I used it to create this little gizmo as well. It is the only wand to which it responds. Just to be on the safe side.'

'You did that with someone else's wand? You really are the most talented witch I know. Really, sometimes I think that you are wasted on Hogwarts. That you should be at St Mungo's, at the very top of your profession. But when I think of you leaving …'

'Don't, Min. Certainly not now. It will upset you. And besides, Hogwarts is every bit as challenging. Just look at the past few years. Several basilisk-survivors, a werewolf, a student possessed by You-know-who, Alastor after that imprisonment …now there was a difficult patient if I ever saw one. And there's always Mister Potter to liven up the tedium of everyday life by losing every bone in his arm … And there is you. You are my life, Min. At St Mungo's, there would simply be no point to anything.'

Minerva smiled. 'You already make me feel so much better. Thank you, my dear. For everything. Could I have that wand, please, for a moment?'

'Nice and casual, but not casual enough, Min. Complete rest, I said. Ten minutes ago blowing your own nose nearly made you break down and now you want … What do you want, precisely?'

'A mirror. And a hairbrush. The way I feel, I must look like death warmed up. I hate that. I may be an old crone, today I certainly feel like one, but I do not want to look the part. Please?'

'Minerva! No patient on my ward ever looks like death warmed up. Or like an old crone, for that matter. You look neat and tidy and that is quite enough for now. You should still not move, my love. You will feel much better staying very calm. And don't forget that you have four stunner wounds that must heal.

'Oh, my god. Will there be big scars?'

'If you follow instructions, quite small ones. You have good healing flesh, considering …'

'Considering my age, you mean. Please, hand me a mirror.'

'To look at a very neat dressing? No way, Min. And stop worrying. You do have a thing about our age difference, always had, I know. But you should know by now that I love every inch of you, Minerva McGonagall, never mind age, never mind scars. Never mind glamour spells!' Poppy smiled, and to her relief, Minerva smiled back.

'I know that, my dear, I truly know that. But I just _like_ to use glamour spells for you. It's … well … it's like buying really sexy underwear.'

'It certainly works for me, my love. Good thing no-one else can see you when you take off those crisp robes. Still, you might try the other option too. They do a very nice line at Madame Malkin's, I heard. I'd love to see you in that.' Poppy smiled mischievously.

'You and half the wizarding world, my dear. Can you imagine the gossip if Hogwarts' Deputy Head is seen rummaging through the lacy knickers? No, it'll have to be glamour spells, I'm afraid. After all, we do value our privacy.'

'Indeed we do. And now you must really rest, Min. Close your eyes, try to get some sleep, relax completely. '

Obediently, Minerva followed the Mediwitch's orders. Too good to be true, Poppy thought. And of course, within minutes 'Poppy?'

'Rest, Min, that's all you need. Relax. Have happy thoughts.'

'My dear, how _does_ one have happy thoughts about hairbrushes … or the lack thereof?'

'Minerva, when it comes to sheer, stubborn single-mindedness, you do take the biscuit.'

'It's just … I really can't have happy thoughts without looking at you, my dear. I feel … as if I suffered a dementor attack. I _need_ to look at you.'

'I know, my love. With any other patient I'd try stern reasoning, but with you … Just lie back, relax, I'm here for you. I'll give you my happy thoughts, my best memories. And it so happens there is one very happy thought about a hairbrush!'

'You're joking. What did you do with a hairbrush … do I really want to hear this, my dear? Or is it, what is that word the children use these days, _kinky_?'

'No it's not! Not really, that is. Not _very_. Certainly not in _that_ way. And of course you want to hear this. It is a memory of you, my love. All my happy memories are. '

'Then why do I not know? Don't tell me this affects my memory as well!'

'No, my love, don't panic. Of course it doesn't. It just happened before we were really together. And I dare say it was a very small thing for you, but for me it changed so much. As I said before, you have healed me in more ways than I ever told you. If tonight's events made me realize one thing, it is that I _should _have told you. Years ago.

Well, just be very still and you'll hear it now.'

Minerva smiled contentedly. 'You'll keep me … spellbound, my dear. As always.'

'Well, it was on the day of my job interview here at Hogwarts …'

**A/N **This chapter gets much too long, which would make uncomfortable reading. The one major disadvantage of internet fiction, or is that just me being old-fashioned?

The story will follow in 'Mobilihairbrush II'. If you're interested, of course. Please let me know!


	8. Mobilihairbrush II

'Well, it was on the day of my job interview here at Hogwarts …'

*-*-*-

'She really is as hard as a twenty-minute egg, your mum!' Rosmerta looked fiercely at Poppy as she bustled around behind the bar. 'Fancy throwing your own daughter out with nothing but a handbag, no clothes or anything …'

'Well,' Poppy smiled, 'it's not as bad as that. I did see it coming, you know, so that handbag was in fact well-packed.'

'What do you mean?'

'Look,' Poppy said and opened her bag. From it, she took several sets of clothing, a pile of books, a full Mediwitch kit. 'And that is just the beginning.' She grinned.

'You are _so _clever! Always were, Pop. When I think of all you did when Mum was in hospital …'

'All in a day's work, you know. I'm glad to hear she is so much better. And that she takes it easier, these days. Well, as long as I get that job, everything will be just fine. '

She looked around her at the taproom of The Three Broomsticks.

'You seem to have done just fine too. The place looks much better since you took over. Still, it must be hard work. '

Her eyes rested for a moment on the notice above the bar, saying _I do not give credit. To no-one. Not even to 100-year-old wizards accompanied by their parents. And it's no use saying "Oh God". "Madam Rosmerta" will do. _

'Oh, that!' Rosmerta laughed. 'Well, I'm not as hard as nails, I should hope. Not really. It's just … being a woman on your own, running a business, you need to show them what's what, you know. But we'll sort something out once you get the job. Don't worry. It's only a month till the start of the school year. You can stay here and we'll sort something out for payment. You just go and get that job and make your mum sorry for what she said.'

'Oh, you can forget about that,' Poppy sighed. 'I'm just one big disappointment to her. She hates the way I look, too fat and not pretty enough, you know. And the way I move, knocking things over, not dancing very well. And the way I dress. And the way I talk. And my job. She hates that most of all. It's why she threw me out. She thinks I'll starve. Then I'll have to return and do as she tells me. She wants me to marry someone rich; that's what "nice gels" did when she was young. Lucius, for instance.'

'That creep? Besides, he is on the rebound from Bella.'

Poppy flinched at the name. Not noticing, Rosmerta said: 'And everybody knows Narcissa is after him as if he were the Snitch. And all that "nice gels" and "our kind of people" stuff, surely that has died out decades ago?'

'Not for my mum, it hasn't. The actual words "darken my doorstep" were uttered. And honestly, Rosmerta, if I do not get that job, I don't know what to do."

'Just let me see to those customers over there,' Rosmerta said. As she took their order, her thoughts drifted to Poppy. Such a brilliant witch, a wonderful healer. And what a tower of strength she had been during Mum's illness. Amazing really, that such an utterly competent person could feel so insecure at the same time. Poppy looked terrified when that mother of hers was mentioned. But then, Rosmerta thought, if I had been put down and humiliated all the time, what would I be like now? Mum may have a fierce temper, and she may be stern on occasions, but she loves me. I never had doubts about that.

She automatically put down a small saucer of cream for the tabby cat and went to the kitchen.

With unseeing eyes Poppy stared at the scene. That's Rosmerta, she thought, all business on the outside, but kind to animals and offering to let a friend stay for practically free.

Not that she could accept that. She would pay her every knut she owed. But a room for a month - it would take awfully long to pay back, and that was the problem. 'It's very well for you,' she whispered to the tabby. 'You just owe her a drop of cream. She works so hard, and she needs her money. I hate to exploit her, you know.'

The tabby stared back for a few moments. Then it tripped away.

'It's not a stray one,' Rosmerta interrupted her thoughts. 'It looks very well groomed. Just passes along sometimes. Well, it's getting near your time, Poppy. I'll keep my fingers crossed. Go get it, girl!'

With a sigh, Poppy started the short walk to Hogwarts.

*-*-*-

'Well, Madam Pomfrey, that seems to settle things, then. We would love to have you on our staff.'

Relief flooded through Poppy as she listened to Professor Dumbledore. She had the job! And she would work something out with Rosmerta. She would find a way to pay her back soon. At least she could pay for a meal a day on her savings. A very small meal. As an added benefit, she might even find a way into a size 10 at the end of this month. She almost giggled with relief.

'There is one little matter, Poppy,' Dumbledore continued. 'Your predecessor left rather abruptly, unavoidable of course, what with her marrying a Frenchman, and all that she had to arrange. But there it is, the sick ward is not in the impeccable order I would like. Now I know that the new year does not start until September and that Hogwarts has no right to ask this. But if you could start here sooner, get everything in apple pie order before the beginning of the year… Full payment of course, full board, everything.'

I'm dreaming, Poppy thought. This is too good to be true. It is an answer to a prayer. Pinch me, someone!

'That would be quite possible, Headmaster,' she said calmly. 'I did not make any plans for this coming month. I could start tomorrow, if you like. Today even. You are quite right; everything must be just so before the students arrive.'

'We are exceptionally lucky to have found not just a most competent Mediwitch, but such a dedicated one. You certainly made the right choice, Poppy, when you chose your N.E.W.T.'s.' Dumbledore smiled. 'But, even then, I never had any doubts about that. And from now on, it's Albus when we are among staff. '

'Jelly Slugs,' a clear voice outside Dumbledore's room said. The door opened and Minerva entered.

'Ah, Minerva, you are just in time to meet the new addition to Hogwarts, Poppy Pomfrey. But then you know each other, don't you?'

'Yes, Albus, Poppy was in … was it your third or fourth year, my dear, when I started teaching at Hogwarts?'

'My third, Professor' Poppy replied shyly.

'And even better news, Poppy can actually start this very day! So the sick ward is one thing less to worry about.' Dumbledore smiled at Minerva, who smiled warmly back.

'Oh, Poppy,' Dumbledore said while going through some papers on his desk, 'If you want to send an owl to your mother to inform her …'

'Oh, that will not be necessary. We are not very close.' Poppy was relieved that Dumbledore did not look at her.

'I see,' Minerva replied in Dumbledore's place, in a voice she usually reserved for Peeves. 'Well. Quite. Of course, your mother needed a good sp….'

'Poppy's mother is, in fact, her _mother_,' Dumbledore interrupted hastily. 'We would not wish to say anything hasty, would we? I know that you probably have some memories of her, since you were at school together? Pleasant ones, I trust?'

'Yes, of course, Albus. We were in the same class. And there are all sorts of … edifying stories about her. But Poppy would not be interested in hearing what swots we were then. So annoying for young people, these tales.'

'Swots, Minerva?' Suddenly Dumbledore's eyes sparkled mischievously. 'You would be the first Quidditch team member in the history of Hogwarts to carry that particular epitaph, you know. Do tell!'

'If you insist.' Minerva smiled at Poppy and – was that a glare at Professor Dumbledore? No, it could not have been, Poppy thought. 'Well, what I remember most clearly is that time when – for the purpose of extra-curricular research, of course, I told you we were swots! – your mother and I spent some considerable time working out new applications for the mobilihairbrush spell.'

'Mobili_hairbrush_?' Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised.

'Yes, Albus. As you know, with that spell you can make a hairbrush move. What I wanted to find out, was whether it could move in, or rather on, one particular spot. And your mother, my dear, assisted me in that research. In fact, she provided the very basis on which to work.'

'Most edifying, Minerva, as you said.' Dumbledore smiled – was that an admiring smile? And did Poppy understand that story correctly? Professor McGonagall had once spanked her mum with a hairbrush? I am imagining things, she thought. It must be the relief.

As Minerva showed Poppy her rooms, she suddenly said, 'Don't mind too much about your mother. She is a difficult one. Always was. Not your fault, of course.' She smiled at Poppy. There was laughter in her eyes, Poppy noticed. Suddenly she found the courage to stammer: 'Did you really … I mean, was it really …I mean …'

'Did I spank her with a hairbrush? Yes, I did, good and proper. She thoroughly deserved it, dreadful little snob that she was. Not with a spell, though. Sometimes you can't beat the Muggles' way. Or rather, if you'll excuse the pun, you can, much better even. I only regret that the effect was not more lasting, my dear. Obviously, I did not make enough of an impression.'

She laughed, a most infectious laugh. Helplessly, Poppy started to laugh too. 'A hairbrush,' she hiccupped. 'I can't believe it!'

'Well, my dear, I'll leave you now to get settled.' Standing in the doorway Minerva looked at her once more. She winked. 'There really is nothing like laughter to destroy a Boggart, you know.'

*-*-*-

'And you were so right, Min,' Poppy said. 'To me, she was just that: a Boggart. She paralyzed me. Even when she was not there, I could hear her voice, saying all those awful, humiliating things. I became all hands and feet when that happened. Only at work did I feel truly comfortable. And since that day, whenever I heard her voice in my head, whenever it stopped me being _me_, I thought of that story. You and a hairbrush. And I thought of the way we laughed together, that was even better. Having a friend to laugh with. It still is one of the best things anyone ever did for me. It changed so much. You changed so much!'

Softly, she kissed Minerva on the cheek.

'Oh, my dear, that was such a lovely story. And of course I remember that day. But I had rather forgotten the "mobilihairbrush' part. At the time, I nearly hexed Albus for putting me in such a position. He did not want to be to negative himself, but he hates bullies as much as I do. And he does love his little jokes, of course.'

'In those days I had no idea how you two can tease each other sometimes,' Poppy grinned. 'And I was still dizzy with relief at his offer. However did he guess? For, actually, there was nothing wrong with that sick ward that a day's work did not sort out. What is it?' she quickly asked. 'You suddenly look like the cat that got … Merlin's whiskers!'

'The cat that got Merlin's whiskers, my dear?'

'That cat. The cat that got the cream. At the time, I barely noticed it, I was that worried. The cat that was not a stray one, that was so well groomed. That was you! I only just realized. You put Albus up to it. Oh, Min…'

'It was nothing, really. That mother of yours was indeed as hard as a twenty-minute egg, Rosmerta put that very well. You could do with a bit of luck. It was absolutely nothing. I'm just glad I was of some help chasing your Boggart, my dear. Thank you for telling me that. You really make me feel so much better. So very much better.'

Poppy's face had the beginnings of a very stern look, Minerva noticed.

'Of course, I would not dream of going against your orders,' she said, hastily. 'Better though I feel, I would never ask for a quill and some parchment.'

'Good, for you would not get it.'

'I know, I know. Much as I hate being dependent, I am fully aware that I have no other option than to ask you to take some notes for me. I really must leave some instructions before I go.'

'_Minerva McGonagall, _you are to take _complete rest_. Now for which of these words do you need a dictionary?'

A look of utter surprise.

'Poppy! You talk to me as if … as if …' For once, Minerva was lost for words.

'As if you are one of your own students, my love?'

A long silence.

Then, 'so that is what it feels like to be on the receiving end?'

Another silence.

More urgently this time: 'Poppy, this sudden urge to go all soft on them in the future … please tell me that is just a symptom too?'

Poppy grinned. 'Of course, my love. And it proves that you are far from being your old self. Rest, I tell you. It's the only thing.'

'Where did you learn …?'

'Well, you know, that is one more thing I have to thank you for. When I was a very young and inexperienced Mediwitch, I often thought about you, when I had a difficult case.'

'About me? But I know hardly a thing about healing, just a bit about the transfiguration part.'

'It's always more than "a bit" that you know, my love. But with "difficult" I did not mean "medically challenging". There are patients who can be very stubborn, who refuse to obey orders, to take medicine, to follow treatments, you know what I mean.'

Carefully Minerva studied the ceiling. It was white.

'You shock and astound me, my dear. Surely such … insubordination … is unthinkable?'

'You would be surprised, Min. Not every patient is like you.' _Thank Merlin for that_, Poppy thought, _or I would be old and grey before my time._

'And whenever I had to deal with, as you so rightly put it, such insubordination, I remembered your first lessons at Hogwarts. They were an inspiration, at such moments. Until then, Transfiguration had not been very …challenging …, so we rather hoped to continue in the same relaxed style. We did …eh…'

'You did test me, my dear, to see what you could get away with. All students do the first day.'

'But not the second. Not in your case. Well, except for Molly Prewett of course. Molly Weasley, I should say. There were two stories about that, afterwards, you know.'

'My dear, I did not even hear one story. I just remember sorting her out. What story is there in that?'

'Well, one version is that you actually, literally, did hex her into the next century and back.'

'I'm almost afraid to ask …'

'Oh, the other story is that she would have preferred that!'

Minerva chuckled.

'Silly little thing. Quite a nice spell she put on the blackboard, though. So that whatever I wrote on it, it just came up as a tartan pattern. However, she should not have chosen a Black Watch. A McDonalds, or an Anderson even, would have shown up much better.'

'It was the only one she knew, probably.'

'Exactly, she should have done a bit of research. But Molly and the library … she never was one for serious study. Her pranks showed more talent than her test papers. Those twins really are the spitting image of her.'

Poppy smiled. 'Yes, it is rather funny, to see her come over the heavy parent. All those howlers! The boys must have had the most awful time at The Burrow, since they left here!'

'Oh, not really, I think. She does love them to bits, you know. As soon as Fred and George are settled in a shop of their own, she'll be as pleased as punch. '

'Yes, that's true, my love. By Christmas, the whole family will have visited that shop, Molly first of all.'

Minerva grinned at Poppy. 'Christmas? Before the end of the summer holidays, my dear.'

'No, not that quick. Not Molly. She'd have to keep up appearances a bit longer than that.'

'She should, true enough, but she won't. End of the summer holidays, you'll see that I am right. I always am.'

Min is really a bit better already, Poppy thought, with a feeling of intense relief. Just as long as she doesn't realize that … Still, no need to accept_ this_ meekly.

'Are not!' she replied, pouting slightly.

'Am, too!' was the immediate retort.

'Are not!'

'Am, too! Want to bet on it?'

'Absolutely! The usual stakes? Take care what you say now, this is one wager you will lose.'

'The usual stakes, my dear. I am already looking forward to it.'

The two witches smiled at each other.

'Now get some rest, Min. Try to sleep, it'll do you good.'

'I can sleep for days at St Mungo's, my dear; this is my only chance to … eh ….'A quick look at Poppy. 'To follow your orders to the letter, of course. '

'That's better. Rest and have happy thoughts.'

'Won't that be boring for you, watching a patient sleep?'

'Don't try my patience too far, Min. And no, I will not be bored. I will think of the first day after the Christmas holidays. The return of all the dear students, Ron Weasley especially. How he will enjoy bragging about his brothers' shop. That he will have seen for the _very first time_, then. The whole school will hear about it, you and I included. And that very night I will claim my winnings … in full … '

'Tell me all about it, my dear. What do you plan?'

'I plan to say no more and let you rest. Which you will not when I tell you all about that particularly happy thought. '

'Good point. Enjoy your fantasy, my dear. At least, you'll have had that. Want to hear my happy thought? A very innocent, soothing one, of course. Mediwitch's orders.

'I am completing my shopping for the start of the year. Diagon Alley basks in the sunshine. An ice cream would be just the thing. And then, as usual, I'll run into you, my dear, quite, quite accidentally of course.'

'Yes, quite, you always manage to time that to the second.'

'Well, what would you want? For me to shout "Hello my darling, nice seeing you again, thanks for breakfast, for last night, for a whole wonderful holiday"? We'll just have our usual accidental meeting and our usual "catching up" over Florean's dark chocolate special.'

'Chocoholic! But you know, that is in fact lovely and soothing. The small joys of everyday life with you. Good, relaxing thought, Min.'

Minerva chuckled.

'Didn't know I had it in me, did you? Well, I'll just dream on then. Quietly. About sipping that dark chocolate ice-cream, feeling it trickle down to my stomach, cold and delicious… Chatting with you, watching the comings and goings in the Alley, seeing the twins' new premises, seeing _the whole Weasley family_ pour out onto the sunny pavement, laughing, praising the twins, Molly most of all.

'And I'll think of the pleasures of the night to come and that thought will trickle down considerably further, much more deliciously, making me shiver in anticipation … Especially after having been bossed around this night, the idea of you fulfilling my every wish …'

Poppy tried sternness and ended up giggling helplessly.

'I love you, Minerva McGonagall,' she finally whispered. 'I'll miss you like hell. Do get well very soon, my love.'

'I will, my dear, I promise. I'll be back before you know it.'

Minerva closed her eyes and smiled. Just talking to you is more healing than any spell in the world, she thought. Talking of memories, of everyday happiness, playing our silly game with wagers even.

Wanting it to continue, she said: 'Why did you never tell me about that hairbrush, my dear?'

The silence was several seconds too long to be comfortable. Surprised, she opened her eyes. Poppy was chewing her lip, eyes wide open. As you do when you don't want to cry, Minerva realized with a sickening feeling.

'Poppy, my dear … what is it?' she whispered.

'I was ashamed, Min, that's why. I was so ashamed!' The words stumbled out now, almost incoherently. 'Needing you to change things, not being able myself … I never stood up to her, not once, not ever. Never told her to stop, to go stuff herself, to put a sock in it … Fourteen-year-olds manage to sever the cord on their own and there was I, twenty-four and still not brave enough … Even when she kicked me out, never a word, I just went meekly. Such weakness … how could I tell you, of all people?'

_You, of all people. You, of all people!_ The words pounded in Minerva's head. Yes, how could Poppy admit weakness, to her, of all people? How could she trust her to that extent? After what happened that day she sprained her ankle?

She could feel the uncontrollable shaking return. _Good. You deserve that._

'Min, my love, please! What's happening? What's wrong? Min!'

Cool hands, checking her pulse. 'Relax, Min.' The calm voice of Madam Pomfrey, expert healer. 'Just relax. Everything is all right. I'm here. Relax.'

_At least, you can do as you're told._ With an effort of will, she relaxed.

'I'm sorry', she whispered. 'Poppy, I'm so desperately sorry. Of course you could not tell me. Not after what I did. I'm so sorry. So very sorry.'

'What on earth are you talking about? Why should you be sorry? What you did? You were the one who _changed_ things for me, Min.'

'Not then… that other day … when I came to you with that sprained ankle. I'm so sorry!'

'That day when … but why … what …' Poppy stared at her.

'Now just listen, Min. I know you never wanted to talk about that day. It suited me fine too, for reasons of my own. Until tonight. That day was the other thing I wanted to tell you about. I will tell you about it. But first, you'll tell _me_, very calmly, what you think you did. I'm not risking another panic attack. Tell me, Min. Relax, and tell me. There is nothing to worry about.'

Slowly, Minerva took a deep breath.


	9. The Slytherin Way

Snape watched Poppy make her way to Minerva's room. Slowly, he lowered himself against the wall.

And now, he thought, where do we go from here?

Faintly, in the background, he heard the reassuring voice of Poppy, a brief silence, and then a painful, racking sob. Instinctively, he cast a wordless muffling spell. Not that! Funny, he thought, this very evening I looked at the most …let's say 'personal' details of your private life without a qualm. And now I cannot bear the thought of hearing you cry. Because you would hate it? Because I have changed? But why? Has all of Hogwarts been stunned, together with you? That would be an interesting theory …

'Coward,' said the little voice in his head. 'That isn't an interesting theory, it's escapism. What you should be worried about is this overt rebellion. Make that 'utter disloyalty,' even. Albus gave you very clear instructions. You are not going to follow them. So, where exactly _do_ you go from here?'

I'll take the path of careful analysis and logical solutions, Snape thought. What else is there? So let's look at this little conundrum. Option one: Albus is right and Poppy is under an imperius-curse. Is this a hypothesis worth testing by further legilimency? It's not, and you know it. That woman is no more under an imperius than yourself. Which brings us to option two: Albus is utterly wrong, and what Minerva is not telling him about Poppy is that they are lovers. Easy, neat solution: go tell Albus. Easy, neat, and considerate solution: pour the man a stiff drink, and then tell him. Minor hiccup: I'm not going to. If, in all these years of the closest friendship I've ever seen, Minerva has not told him, then I will certainly not. I owe her too much.

'Owe her why, exactly?' said the little voice. 'Owe her, because she was strict but _fair_ when you were at Hogwarts? Owe her, because she behaves towards you with at least outward civility? Or do you really still feel that you _owe her_, because she once invited you in as if you were really welcome? Offered you a drink, even? That was in honor of it being New Year's day, sentimental old idiot, it had nothing to do with you!'

There is of course a third option, Snape thought, pointedly ignoring the little voice. Albus knows all about the relationship, but feels that Poppy poses a danger. Personally, I still do not believe it. But, as Albus said, do I know what every Death Eater does, in terms of , say, imperius-curses? I do not. There is only one who does. I could, perhaps, find out by reading Poppy's mind. But, again, I'm not going to.

So, which solutions are open at this point? I could invent a story about Poppy that would keep Albus content and none the wiser. The risks are, of course, that I would not be able to pull that off. Or, if I did manage, that Albus would act on misinformation, what might irreparably damage our position. Can't do that.

Or, I could go to Albus and tell him to put his orders where his Phoenix cannot fly. Which means losing the only person who lo… ca… entertains feelings of friendship of some kind toward me.

Snape, terminally analytical, briefly mused on the extraordinary number of four-letter-words in the English language. Then he returned to the problem at hand. The last option really was the only feasible one. He pictured the conversation with Albus, the argument, the curt dismissal.

Suddenly, he felt stone-cold. The air was wet and clammy. It was as if he would never by happy again. In one fluent movement he was on his feet, shielding the corridor to Minerva's room with his back, wand ready.

'_Expecto pa.._' Only then did he realize that the corridor was a still Dementor-free zone and that the feelings of despair were his own. To be wrapped up and archived, neatly labeled _Losing Albus' friendship, reactions to_.

He sagged back against the wall. 'If you were a Gryffindor,' he told himself, 'you would not hesitate. Minerva would not. She'd go to Albus, head high, back ramrod-straight, and damn the consequences.'

He smiled at the image. A smile which he slowly changed from fond admiration to contempt.

'Ah, Minerva,' he murmured, 'you'd go, but, only because you could not imagine a fourth option. And there always is one. The Slytherin way. When you are between the devil and the deep blue sea, damned if you do, and damned if you don't, then think Slytherin. Think power. Think about a means towards an end. Think _ambition!_'

Slowly, he proceeded to fill his mind with images. Minerva boo-ing the Slytherin team during Quidditch. Her barbed remarks when Gryffindor won the house-cup. Her look of triumph when the decorations changed from green and silver to red and gold, that first year that mister Potter… ah, Mr. Potter. An even better thought. He pictured the boy as he always did, in profile, the spitting image of his father. James, who had bullied him relentlessly, who had made his years at Hogwarts hell, who had destroyed his life when he married Lily. Slowly, he let the hatred seep through his entire body. Only then did he rise and make his way to the school gates.

Once outside the gates he carefully pressed the black mark on his arm. He waited a few seconds, twirled elegantly, and disapparated.

*-*-*-*-*-

A corridor, richly decorated. And, at elbow's level, a squeaky voice.

'Lord Voldemort said to send you in.'

Without a further look at Pettigrew, Snape entered.

**A/N** Sorry folks, I really wanted to update both chapters on Snape today, but real life is as cooperative as Umbridge on a bad hair day. Will try to update soon. Reviews are very stimulating, of course, so if you have not yet done your good deed for the day, press the button!


	10. Sorting the rabble

Voldemort sat at the head of a large table, the Malfoys and Bellatrix Lestrange at a lower place.

'Well, Severus, why the urgency?' said Voldemort.

'I thought it well to give you a full inside report on events at Hogwarts, my lord. And to consider the various options at this point.'

'Is she dead?' Bella's voice was almost jubilant.

'No. But there still is a small possibility. Let's put it this way: if she were to die within the next hours, no-one would be really surprised. Or ask any questions.'

'Oh yes! Please, my lord, let me be your instrument in this! We can destroy Hogwarts now.' Bella glowed with passion as she looked at Voldemort. Narcissa threw her an anxious look. Under the table, she sought Lucius' hand.

'Would you destroy Hogwarts now?' Voldemort's eyes did not leave Snape for one moment.

'No, my lord,' Snape replied calmly.

Bella spat fire. 'You dare oppose the Dark Lord's wishes? You are not worthy to..'

'Am I opposing your wishes, my lord?' Snape drawled.

Voldemort showed a momentary flicker of what, on another face, would have been a smile.

'Leave us. I wish to speak to Severus in private.'

Narcissa and Lucius scrambled to their feet and hurried out. Bella followed reluctantly, throwing Snape a contemptuous look.

Once the door was closed behind them, Voldemort turned to Snape.

'Why did you come to bring this report? I could have ordered this myself. Did that occur to you?'

'I considered all possibilities, my lord, but you are no fool.'

This time it almost was a smile.

'Well put. Indeed, I am not. And destroying Hogwarts at this, or any, point, would be extremely foolish. I have plans for Hogwarts, Severus.'

'I am convinced of that, my lord. It was my reason for coming here tonight.'

'Good. I will take you somewhat in my confidence.'

A small pause. The expected, joyful, respectful, 'My lord!'

'Yes, I have plans for Hogwarts. It will remain, of course, the Wizarding School for Great Britain. It will train young witches and wizards, and I will then use them to the best of their ability. For this, Hogwarts must remain a well-run establishment. Ideally, parents will sent their children there freely and enthusiastically. Tell me, Severus, how would you arrange this?'

Snape was silent for a moment. Then he said: 'I would wish Hogwarts to keep running smoothly. At some point in the future, I would eliminate Dumbledore. There would be a small transition period after that. Then I would make major changes. To keep Hogwarts running smoothly until then, I would most definitely have McGonagall on board as Deputy Headmistress. If necessary, as Headmistress after Dumbledore's exit. But preferably as Deputy.'

'Why that?'

'So that there is a chance of keeping her as Deputy once the Headmaster of your choice is installed, my lord.

'How would you rate the chance that she stays on?'

Snape hesitated. Then he said honestly: 'Very small. But still worth investing a reasonable amount of effort in. It would be possible, difficult, but possible, to find someone who runs the school as efficiently as she does. It is not possible to find anyone who would inspire greater trust among the parents, my lord. '

'Quite. What major changes would you make?'

'I will not try to second-guess your plans, my lord. I know that is beyond me. What I personally would change is the order of the houses. Now, all four are equally important. I do not see things that way. Slytherin should be a more … elitist place. Students there should get a proper grounding in the Dark Arts, a more advanced program. It should be a place of academic excellence. The other houses do have their uses, though. Hufflepufs make good, solid workers. The lower ranks of the Ministry could be recruited from there. Griffyndors are, by their very nature, excellent wand-fodder. Ravenclaws too can be profitably employed in the service of the Slytherin elite.'

While speaking, he kept a very careful eye on Voldemort. He knew he was not displeasing him. The next words proved that.

'What would you do about sorting?'

'I would want to make one change, but I do not see how it could be done. Slytherin should be sorted differently. I have an intimate knowledge of all Slytherins in my care and, of course, of quite a few others as well. Some of them fall regrettably short on that one characteristic: ambition.'

Snape looked pointedly at the door through which Bellatrix had just left.

'Ah,' Voldemort said. 'I see your point. A nice lapdog, but no ambitions at all. Other than to be my serf, if that can be called ambition. You will not be surprised that I have worked out that little problem. People like tradition, so the hat can go on sorting the rabble. But there will be a new sorting device for Slytherins. A fitting one. There, too, I will follow tradition.'

Snape thought quickly, and replied admiringly: 'A heirloom of Salazar Slytherin, my lord?'

'Yes. That will be used to give Slytherins a seal of approval. Salazar's seal, and my own. Hogwarts will be a good place to keep it.'

'Your own seal of approval, my lord? You cannot mean to come …'

'Of course not. I do not keep annual commitments. But part of me will always be at the new Hogwarts. Do not seek to understand that. There is more to me than meets the eye, and even you cannot measure the depths of my soul. But you have exceeded my expectations today, Severus.'

'Thank you, my lord.'

'Return to Hogwarts. You know now what I want. Work towards that end. And do invest … a reasonable amount of effort … if you see an opportunity. There has not been a Slytherin Headmaster for too long. And he would need a useful deputy.'

It was clearly a dismissal. And the career opportunity of a lifetime.

Snape made a bow to his liege-lord. Then he turned and quickly left. In the corridor, he again ignored Pettigrew.

*-*-*-*-*

Back at the Hogwarts gate, he blinked for a moment. Slowly, he went over the various parts of the discussion. The visions it conjured up. _Defense_ Against the Dark Arts? Hah! And potions … Unlimited possibilities!

He took a deep breath. Then he checked on the sick ward. Everything was as it should be. Right, Albus, he thought. Now we'll have that little conversation.

**A/N** But first, of course, the promised story (stories, I should say) about what happened the day Minerva sprained her ankle. I have not forgotten about that.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews. They really are so stimulating, there is nothing that spurs on the writing more than knowing that there are people out there who are actually reading the stuff!


	11. How to sprain an ankle

'Tell me what upset you so, my love,' Poppy whispered. 'And, please, be assured that there is no need for it. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. There is nothing in our life that I regret, nothing!'

Minerva took a deep breath.

'That day I sprained my ankle … For months, since that Boxing Day we spent together...,'

_Bless Cousin William, _Poppy automatically thought, though she said nothing.

'Well, for months, really, I tried to take our relationship beyond friendship, and I had convinced myself that you wanted that, too… '

'I did,' Poppy said fervently. 'You know I did, and you thought I held back because I was afraid of misjudging your feelings and ruining my career because of that. And, of course, it would have resulted in an impossible working relationship. I would have had to leave. That sprained ankle was a Godsend. If you had not come to me about that ankle, we would never have ended in my room. And I wanted that more than anything, but I was too unsure to do something about it myself. '

'That's what I thought at the time, well, that it was my last chance to be alone with you before the summer holidays. I wanted you so desperately… I really thought you felt the same, the way you responded when I kissed you …'

'Min, I did! Don't doubt that! It was I who took you to my bedroom, for Merlin's sake.'

'Was it? Afterwards I could never be sure… I'm the one who pushed you onto the bed, with such crass insensitivity that I made you relive the worst moment of your life. You screamed, you tried to push me away … When you finally told me all about Bellatrix, I felt so ashamed. So deeply ashamed. I still don't understand that you wanted me to stay with you, to hold you while you told me. I wanted to hand in my resignation in the morning...'

'You WHAT?! Min …'

'Of course. I thought you could never bear to work with me again, and it was my fault. So I had to be the one to resign. Then, when you woke up, you thanked me, actually _thanked_ me for staying, asked me to come again that evening … I don't know why I got a second chance. I certainly didn't deserve it. And I was so afraid of ruining it that I never spoke about that day, only when you did. Even then I was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

'I'm so desperately sorry I forced myself on you, my love. The only thing I can say is that I did not push you on purpose. By then, I had quite forgotten about that sprained ankle; it was only a reason to come and talk to you, after all. I put my weight on it and lost balance. But there is no excuse. I'm just so sorry! That it happened, that, all these years, you could not trust me enough to admit to weakness… At least you can now, that is something …'

'Oh, Min, darling.' Softly, Poppy kissed her, holding her very carefully. 'And all these years you thought I blamed you for what happened that evening? Oh my God, I should have told you the whole story years ago.

'It wasn't just that she raped me, Min. There was more. You know, all the girls in my class were forever talking about boys and falling in and out of love, and I just never did. I had such doubts about myself. Nobody talked about being gay in those days, well, nobody I knew anyway. Until Bella. I really admired her, and she had overheard Mummy having another go at me about Lucius. She said that perhaps I was more interested in girls. That I had to be either interested in boys or in girls, or else I was a frigid freak. Well, I knew I was not interested in boys, and then she offered to let me try. I really did admire her a lot, and she was very pretty in those days … I was desperately unsure, and I thought this would be my only chance to find out. And then it hurt so much. That terrified me, she had told me that is how you can tell that someone is a frigid freak. She said:' You can't be, if you want me to go on. And you do want that, don't you?' And I actually said 'Yes.' I wanted it to be all right. But it wasn't, of course.

'It took me years, way into my healer's training, to realize that perhaps I wasn't frigid, that perhaps it could be called rape. Well, that really made things better, didn't it? I could now start thinking that I was such an utter wimp that I actually said 'yes, please' to the person who raped me.

'That's why I held back all those months since Boxing Day. It had nothing to do with fear of losing my job. It had to do with me. Me being either frigid or a despicable weakling. And you a heroine of the Grindelwald-war and so brilliant and so much more interesting. What did I have to offer?

'All these years, I had nightmares about Bella. I dreamt that it all happened again, and in those dreams I knew it was rape, and still I said 'yes' every time. And I woke up being so disgusted with myself.

'That was what happened that evening, you see? When you fell against me, the back of my knees hit the bed. I toppled backwards. Your robe fell over my head. And suddenly I was back in that room, and it was Bella, and it was all happening again. But this time, at last, I did scream 'No!' I did push her away. Then I woke up, for that's how it felt, I woke up, you were there, and it was all right. Really all right. I had said 'no'.

'I never had those nightmares again. You stopped them once and for all that night. You being there, you loving me, that gave me the strength to say 'no'. To Bella. Not to you, my love, never to you. In my mind, it simply wasn't _you_, it was Bella.

'But I still felt ashamed for being so weak for so long. So I never told you the full story of what Bella did. You were always the strong one, the one who changed things for me. You've been in two wars already, and now you've joined the Order of the Phoenix again. How could I tell you? I never even dared to volunteer, because I was afraid of that weakness. Of letting the Order down on a crucial moment. What if Albus had given us an assignment together, and you'd got hurt because I could not handle the situation?

'I've always been ashamed, Min. Until tonight. Now, at last, I know that I actually am capable of handling great stress. I did not fall apart, I did not give in, I just acted. I saved you. When I was watching you sleep, earlier tonight, for the first time in my life I felt truly at peace with myself. I felt whole. Please, never, ever have any doubts again, love. You have always been wonderful to me. In _everything_ you did. '

For a long time, Minerva stared at Poppy. Then she whispered: 'Is that really true? You're not just saying it because I'm ill? It really was about Bella, that night, not about me?'

'It really was, Min. If only I had known what you thought …'

'And Bella did that to you? Telling you that you were … upsetting you so, making you ask for …' slowly, Minerva's voice became stronger. 'That criminal… that despicable, that … I'll kill her for this!'

'You will _not_. You will not even get angry. It is bad for you. Relax, that is an _order_. What would become of me if you were in Azkaban, or worse, if … You are still very ill. I wouldn'tt even have told you that story tonight, but you were so upset, not telling you would have been worse. Keep quiet, Min, please, if only for my sake.'

Slowly, Minerva relaxed. Poppy is right, she realized. I'm still as weak as a baby and shaking all the time. I must keep very calm and get well soon. Get back here soon. Now that that _abomination _has escaped … I must keep that anger for later. And find a safe way to let it out, not kill that _thing_ in cold blood. She deserves it, but as things are, it would land me in Azkaban before you could say 'unforgivable curse'. I must be _here_, for Poppy, for the students.

'That's better,' she heard Poppy say. 'Relax, try to sleep. You need your rest, Min. Whatever else there is to say can wait.'

'No, please. Please, Poppy, no more unspoken things. You were thinking of something. I need to know …'

'It's nothing. I just wondered; I always thought you didn't want to talk about that sprained ankle because you did not want to tell me how you got it in the first place. Said you didn't know, but somehow that never convinced me. It's not important, though.'

'To me, it was. It made it worse. Not only did I feel that I'd forced myself on you, but also … that ankle … I did it on purpose.'

'What did you do on purpose? Not sprain it?' Poppy stared. 'You did. You sprained that ankle on purpose! Min!'

'I didn't know what else to do. Just one week before the end of term. I needed an excuse, some excuse, to go to the sick ward. To see you. Something not involving ill-making – or disfiguring - potions or spells, something that would not affect me much, but believable and genuine. It had to be genuine; you are such a brilliant healer, you would have known at once. But it was not entirely a lie, you know. It is rather difficult to sprain an ankle on purpose. I found that transfiguration doesn't work. Because it's rather a Muggle-thing to do, I presume. Magical wounds never give me trouble. So I tried slipping of the stairs to my rooms. I had to try several times; suddenly it happened, and, in a way I did tell you the truth; I really do not know exactly how I did it. Please, don't be angry with me.'

'I ought to be,' Poppy said. 'Abusing your body like that!' Softly, she caressed Minerva's cheek. 'But I'm just grateful that you did. Yet another thing you did for me. Oh, Min, please get some sleep, please get well soon. I need you here; life is pointless without you.'

'Promise you wake me in time to say goodbye properly?'

'Promise.'

Min closed her eyes. To her relief, Poppy saw her drift off to sleep.

**A/N **Minerva is far too active for a patient, of course. Even if you allow for strength of character verging on the bloody stubborn. But if I kept her half conscious or sleeping all the time, you would rather watch paint dry than read this story. So, please, accept this liberty I take.

Well, off to Snape and Dumbledore, who have things to talk about.

Oh, by the way, anyone interested in Cousin William and Boxing Day? Please let me know, if not I won't bother you with it, but simply send Minerva to hospital as soon as possible.


	12. Four letter words I

Snape stared at the gargoyle with contempt. He was about to say the password when he paused and checked the time. Yes, he could spare a few minutes for a little personal enjoyment. It is no more than you deserve, he thought, and a lot less than you could have. He settled his back comfortably against the wall and lost himself in a daydream which had suddenly, miraculously, changed from "same old, same old" to something deliciously new and exciting. Oh, the joys of "when I am," compared to the staleness of "if I were".

_When… I… am, _he said to himself, luxuriating in the thought, _when … I … am… Headmaster of Hogwarts, _the very first thing I will do is change those ridiculous, childish, and _unsafe_ passwords. One has but to name the stock of Honeydukes to enter the office. _My office_ will have a far more appropriate protection. That crazy gargoyle will have to go as well. He visualized the office for the possible changes he would make. Then he let his mind wander to the Teachers' Room, which led to some pleasant minutes of appointing new staff. Time schedules with an _appropriate_ amount of time given to Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts … And certain subjects would disappear altogether. Which would, Snape thought, free up the top floor of the North Tower. A very comfortable set of private rooms could be created there. And the view!

It was with a feeling of profound regret that he finally turned to the gargoyle.

'Oh, so now we bother to _look_,' it said. 'Have been standing to attention for bloody _hours_, not that anyone would _care_, of course.'

Snape quelled the mutterings with a disdainful glance and snarled: 'Pepper imps!'

He walked up the staircase towards Dumbledore's office. Where the steps really higher this time, was he tired, or was there another reason he practically had to drag his feet up?

You did not sleep at all tonight. What else could there be, he asked himself. He opened the door.

'Severus! What brings you here?'

'Your orders, Albus. And my execution of them. Which, surprising as it may seem at this time of the night, does lead me here. You had, I believe, certain … concerns? Well-defined concerns?'

'Yes. Yes, I had. More or less well-defined concerns. Is there any information you can give me?'

_Yes, there is, in fact, what I found out is … So easy. So damnably easy. You can do it. You can just tell Albus. After all, if anyone is completely trustworthy, if anyone wishes Minerva well and would do all to protect her … It doesn't matter if you tell him. Just say it. Be done with it. It is so very, very easy. _

'I have collected quite some information, yes.' Snape looked in the intelligent blue eyes. The friendly blue eyes. Set in a smiling face. _So easy. Do it!_ _How many people are there who smile when you walk in?_ The little voice in his head was yelling by now. _Say it, you fool, do it! And leave all options open. ALL options, do you hear me? ALL options!_

'I'm afraid … that I have a problem …' _Tell him, idiot, just tell him! _… 'handing over that information. It's private.'

A silence.

After several seconds –or hours or days- Albus heaved a sigh.

'Yes. It usually is. You know that I hate to ask you this, Severus, but…'

'Then don't!' Severus spat. 'Don't put me in this position. Just like that. Without giving a damn how I feel. Just because you need something. Without even telling me why.'

Suddenly, he knew that's what had hurt the most. Being treated as a house elf, or worse, as an instrument, supposedly without feelings or emotions. He was used to being an instrument, but not here. Not in this office. Not at the hands of this man.

'I see.'

Another silence.

'I've hurt you, Severus. And I regret that. But I had … have my reasons.'

_You can still go back! Accept it! 'All right.' That's all it takes._

'I don't doubt that you have, Albus. It's just not good enough. Not this time. I … I actually … ' God, this was difficult. 'I … care about Minerva. And Poppy.'

'You _care_ about them, Severus?'

Ye gods, not that. Not pity. Don't look like that. I must get this talk back to business.

'I won't do what you ask of me.'

It was said. Now they could round this off quickly and in a businesslike manner. He looked at Albus. You were my North, my South, my East, and West, he thought. Where had he read that? A Muggle poem, full of silly Muggle objects. Weasley's wet dream, he had sneered at the time. But some lines had stuck and were horribly appropriate. My working week and my Sunday rest. My Sunday rest. That above all.

The silence endured long beyond comfort. Something, someone had to break it.

'I've been to see Voldemort.'

'Oh.'

'There was no order from him. There will not be, either.'

'Oh.'

'Poppy is not a Death Eater.'

'I'm perfectly aware that she is not a Death Eater! There was no need to see Voldemort to find _that_ out.'

At last, you get angry, Snape thought. Good. Let's be done with it.

'Sorry.'

The word came as a total surprise. All Snape could do was stare at Albus.

'I do not like admitting this, Severus. It is not often that I make mistakes. Quite seldom, in fact. But this time, I seem to have made a right royal cock-up of the situation. Have a seat. Let's talk about this. Let me tell … no. Let me show you.'

Albus stepped from behind his desk and walked over to the Pensieve. With his wand, he extracted a small, silvery band from his head.

'Just look, will you, and give me your ideas.'

*-*-*-*-*-

The same office. More or less the same Albus. Different robe, though. And a younger Minerva, going over a long parchment containing a list, making neat, efficient notes in the margin.

'That seems to settle it, more or less, for this year.' The familiar voice with the faint Scottish brogue. 'We will need to think about a possible locum for Galathea, though. She is not getting any younger, and last year she was ill for over a month. We can cover short periods with current staff, but a month is just too long.'

'You are quite right, as usual. It's not easy, however. Good DADA teachers do not grow in the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps …'

'Yes, Albus?'

'No, on second thoughts, I think not. She did well in that subject, mind you. Got an 'O' for her N.E.W.T.'s. Very well indeed.'

'Who?'

'One of our former students.'

'What, a Griffyndor?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'No, not that. A former Hogwarts student, I meant. One of my former students, I should have said, I think she left before you started here. I met her in Knockturn Alley, during the holidays. We talked, and she expressed an interest in teaching. But, as I said, on second thoughts, no.'

'You make me curious, Albus,' Minerva smiled. 'Who is this mysterious former student, and which house was she in?'

'Slytherin. It was Bellatrix Black. Lestrange, as she is now.'

A loud bang. Minerva's chair had fallen over as she sprang to her feet.

'Never! Never will I even consider having _that woman_ at Hogswarts. You can forget about that straight away!'

Furiously she strode to the window, banged a fist on the window sill.

'Never! I'll resign the minute she enters here.'

'Minerva, my dear. What on earth … I had no idea that you knew her. That you feel this strongly …'

'No. No, of course you did not. But I do. I feel strongly about this. Still, I should not have yelled at you. Or ordered you around. I'm sorry, that was inappropriate.'

Minerva kept staring out of the window, carefully avoiding Albus' eyes.

'Well, I had my doubts already, as I said. And you know that I am always more than happy to listen to your advice, which is nothing if not sensible. And in the best interests of Hogwarts. But could you tell me why you feel this way?'

'No. I'm sorry, Albus, I can't. It's … well, I just can't.'

'Quite so, my dear. You are entitled to some privacy. Merlin knows that is a scarce enough commodity around here.'

*-*-*-*-*-

The images blurred. Snape looked thoughtfully at Albus but remained silent. Minerva had not told him what had happened to Poppy. Understandably. It was Poppy's story to tell, if and when she wanted to. Minerva would never break such a confidence, not even for Albus. Which sealed his lips as well.

'This happened when Poppy had been here for about two or three years. Before that time, I cannot recall a single instance when Minerva expressed such a dislike for a member, any member, of the Black family. Since then, she has. Seldom openly, but I know her too well. The only Black she can stand is Sirius. And he is one only in name. But I know that her dislike, her hatred of Bella is intense. And that is since Poppy came to work here. It has to do with her. I know that the Blacks and Poppy's mother were friends. They stayed at each other's houses. There is a connection between Poppy and Bella. An old one. This was also, more importantly even, the only time that Minerva ever threatened to resign. Or spoke as if she were Headmistress.'

Ouch, Snape thought. No need to rub in that she's a better person than I am. I know that.

'But that was years ago,' he said. 'Why bring this up? By now, most of the wizarding world feels the same about Bella. After everything that happened. After the Longbottoms happened. I can see how this worried you at the time, but now?'

'There is more,' Dumbledore replied quietly. 'Look on.'

Snape returned to the Pensieve.

*-*-*-*-*-

The Great Hall, this time. The Staff's Table. It was clearly breakfast time. Owls circled the Hall, delivering letters and The Daily Prophet. Teachers were eating toast and porridge, discussing the day ahead, various students, and the paper. Suddenly, a choking sound. Poppy had a dreadful fit of coughing. She gasped for breath. The two members of staff next to her patted her back ineffectually. One fetched a glass of pumpkin juice. She drank deeply.

'Thanks,' she finally managed. 'Piece of toast. Went down the wrong way.' She was shaking and had tears running down her cheeks.

Then Snape noticed Minerva. The look of intense concern for Poppy, slowly turning into horror as she saw the front page of the paper. _Mass escape from Azkaban! _The letters were half an inch high. And Bellatrix' portrait was in the middle of the page, glaring wildly at the readers. He saw Minerva's hands tremble. Saw the knuckles turn white as she grasped the paper. She made an involuntary movement, as if she wanted to get up and run to Poppy. She did not. Of course not, Snape thought. When the teachers rose after breakfast, she could finally walk over to Poppy. He saw how she whispered something in Poppy's ear, how she briefly put her arm around Poppy's waist. Again, the image blurred.

*-*-*-*-

Yes, Snape thought. Looking at this little scene analytically, there is a variety of interpretations. Some of them quite worrying. Even if you can explain Minerva's reaction because they are lovers, there remains Poppy's emotion. All the more since none of Poppy's family suffered at the hands of our dear Death Eater. So that logical explanation fails.

What do you know, Albus? If Minerva trusted you enough to tell you about her relationship with Poppy, you cannot tell me. And I cannot tell you. Now what?

**A/N** Hope to post the rest of this conversation (not so little after all) soon. Thank you, all reviewers, Kelly Chambliss and Tigertales especially, for your ongoing kindness in submitting reviews. Each one is much appreciated!


	13. Four letter words II

'What exactly worries you?' Snape asked Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked at him. 'I think it is conceivable that Poppy once was in love with Bellatrix,' he replied.

'What?!'

That was the very last thing Snape expected. 'You're mad! What on earth gave you that idea?'

'It isn't as unlikely as you seem to think. Bella's mother and Poppy's mother were at school together. Not in the same house, but I know that they kept in touch over the years. Christmas owls, staying at each other's house sometimes, inviting each other's children, you know. Bella is only, what would that be, seven or eight years older than Poppy. At the time, she was a very good looking girl, slender, elegant, and self-assured. Everything that Poppy was not. And Bella could be very charming. Ideal material for a schoolgirl crush, at the very least. But, as it is Poppy we are talking about, it may very well have gone beyond that stage. A first love can hit a person very hard. Especially someone who feels insecure and lonely in the first place.'

Dumbledore carefully avoided Snape's eyes when he said that, for which Snape was deeply grateful.

'Nothing came of it, of course,' Dumbledore continued. 'And I am absolutely certain that Poppy … well, that she found happiness with someone else. That she abhors Bella's deeds as much as anyone. But the fact remains that the feelings for a first love can stay, in some form or other, for a very long time. And if Bella works on that … in combination with an imperius-curse, without that Poppy would never … well, as I said, I just don't know. I'm not one hundred percent sure. And where Minerva is concerned, I can't take risks. And I couldn't ask her, either. You do see that, at least?'

'Yes, absolutely,' Snape replied, inwardly sagging with relief. That was it, then. A solvable problem, thank Merlin.

'Of course you couldn't ask Minerva whether Poppy still might have some feelings for Bella … _especially_ not now that she is so ill.' Dumbledore nodded vehemently, picking up effortlessly the meaning of that much emphasized "especially".

'Let me set your mind at rest, Albus,' Snape continued. 'Poppy wasn't in love with Bella. Absolutely not. I know what happened. Bella did an absolutely foul and unspeakable thing to her. She had that streak of cruelty even then. I wish Minerva had told you what it was years ago. But obviously she didn't, as it is Poppy's story. I'd prefer …'

'…to act likewise,' Dumbledore finished for him. 'Quite. You are absolutely sure? Beyond any doubt, reasonable or not?'

'Yes. '

'Good. That is one thing less to worry about. Now tell me about the meeting with Voldemort.'

'He knew of the attack already, of course. Bella wasn't involved in it. She very much wanted to be, though. Absolutely hates Minerva. Fears her, perhaps, even more. She would have attacked her now, when she is too weak to defend herself, but I very much doubt whether she would otherwise. She may have some skills in Occlumency, but she couldn't hide those feelings! If it would ever come to a full-scale battle, where she would have back-up from other Death-Eaters, from Voldemort even, I'd keep an eye on her, but otherwise, no.

'And the Dark Lord didn't order the attack. He's no fool. He wants to use Hogwarts. Therefore, it must continue to run smoothly. For that, forgive me for speaking bluntly, Albus, but for that, Minerva is even more essential than you are.'

'I'm fully aware of that,' Albus replied, smiling. 'In fact, I hardly know how you're going to manage, the next few weeks. But we'll talk about that later. What have you learnt about Voldemort's plans?'

'He wants to eliminate you, obviously.'

'Obviously.'

'That done, he wants to maintain Hogwarts to train young wizards and witches. According to his ideas, that is. A greater importance for Slytherin, where the Dark Arts will be teached. He sees the other houses in a supportive role.'

'Did he tell you all this?'

'Not in so many words. But that is what's on his mind. I know him well, Albus. He seemed to entertain some small hope that Minerva might stay on at Hogwarts. Her presence would inspire great confidence.'

Dumbledore grinned. 'So it would. Is he really fool enough to believe it, though?

'Hardly. But he thinks it worth a try, nonetheless.'

'What do _you_ think, Severus? You almost sound as if you could imagine it.'

'Well ... I can see Minerva staying on for some time ... for as long as she could protect the students, or for as long as she needed to get them into safety.'

'That, yes. I agree. She would protect the students to the very last. Anything else that came up? '

Snape paused briefly.

'He wants to change something about the sorting procedure. About sorting the Slytherins. He gave me to understand that he will use another sorting tool, an heirloom of Salazar Slytherin himself.'

'What! He told you about that? What did he say? Exactly, Severus!'

'He said: "There will be a new sorting device for Slytherins. A fitting one. I will follow tradition. It will be used to give Slytherins a seal of approval. Salazar's seal and my own. Hogwarts will be a good place to keep it.'

'Salazar's _seal_ and my own? He used the very word _seal_?'

'Yes, he did. Why, Albus, is there a special meaning?'

'I can't tell you yet. What else did he say?'

'Yes, when he used the words"my own seal", I thought that he meant that literally. I asked him, rather surprised, I must confess, whether he meant to come to Hogwarts himself. He said, no, I do not keep annual commitments. But part of me will always be at the new Hogwarts. Do not seek to understand that. There is more to me than meets the eye, and even you cannot measure the depths of my soul.'

'Those were his exact words?'

'Verbatim. You can trust my memory.'

'I know I can. But this is of exceptional importance. Critical information. Thank you, Severus. This confirms …I can't tell you yet, I must do further research. But this exceeds my expectations!'

Severus smiled.

'Was there anything else?'

Carefully, Severus went over the conversation with Voldemort. Had he mentioned everything Albus needed to know, given all the really important information?

'That's all,' he replied.

'Now about the next few weeks. At the moment, you are the only remaining member of the Order at Hogwarts. You'll have to keep an eye on things and to keep me informed though the usual channels. I'd also like you to liaise with Minerva before she leaves. If Poppy allows you, mind. 'But if you may, talk to her. And ... What you said earlier tonight …'

'Yes. Well. Do you have to repeat yourself?'

'There _are_ worse four-letter words, Severus,' Dumbledore replied with a trace of exasperation.

'But let me get to the point. Until tonight, I have never considered the option that both Minerva and I would be away from Hogwarts. A foolish omission, but there it is. I never thought about Hogwarts without her. I should have foreseen such a possibility, though. It may happen again. Next year, I will be away quite frequently. Especially with that truly vital information you gave me.

'Minerva's workload will be an extremely heavy one. What she needs is a good back-up. Someone who will help out, who will carry some of the load; someone who is willing to be a sounding board, who is ready to step in if something should happen … something like today.

'And I don't care that you want to hex me into next week for saying so, since you told me that you care about her – and I just happen to believe you – you will be that person.'

'Ah. I'm quite aware that it is an honour that you trust me enough to ... endeavour to replace Minerva, should the need arise. It is more than I could expect - from you.'

Snape smiled enigmatically.

'But what does she think of this great idea?'

'Nothing; she doesn't know it. Severus, the main reason I never considered these things before, is that, whenever I overlook something, Minerva reminds me of it. Do you think she would ever tell me that I'm asking too much? That _she_ ever considered not being at Hogwarts?'

'I see your point, Albus, of course I do. It is, indeed, a most sensible solution. I will try to be cooperative, and Minerva, where work _for_ _the Order_ is concerned, has always been perfectly polite, so I think we will…'

_BANG._

Dumbledore slammed his desk hard enough to regret it later.

'Severus, for once, will you act like a human being?! I'm not asking you to cheer the Gryffindor Quidditch team nor to like Ginger Newts, just to help Minerva. As a friend. Or, if you can't rise to that, as a real helpmeet. You will offer your assistance freely; when she asks you to do something, you will _not_ look at her as if you smell a rotten dragon's egg, like you do now. You will ensure that, should the need ever arise, you can replace her in a fairly acceptable manner. Which is as much as anyone can do, when it comes to replacing Min. You will, in short, make a bloody effort! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?'

Dumbledore gave Snape a look that would freeze a boiling potion. In the ensuing silence, one by one, the former headmasters returned to their frames. Fortescue rubbed his left ear. He looked at Dumbledore reproachfully before he re-inserted his ear trumpet.

'Stout fella!' Dippet whispered. Dumbledore threw him a glance. Dippet ducked with considerable agility.

Snape stared at Dumbledore. He tried to remember when he had last seen him this angry, then checked himself. It was not a line of thought he wanted to continue. Instead, he thought about a possible reply. Finally, he settled for: 'Yes, Albus.'

'Good. Go. Now. Talk. Be helpful. Smile! Chop, chop!'

'Yes, Albus. '

Snape made his way to the door. He turned to Dumbledore.

'As it happens, I am quite partial to Ginger Newts, Albus, ' he said.

'And I will make … a reasonable effort …'

He left.

Dumbledore stared at the closed door, absent-mindedly rubbing his right hand.

'You are your own worst enemy, Severus,' he whispered.


	14. Thoughts that scar

**A/N** Time for another little disclaimer. If I owned any of these characters, I would have been able to employ a butler to deal with real life, and I would have updated much sooner. Since I'm not making money with this story, I can't guarantee that the next update will be quicker.

One of the phrases does not belong to me, either. Poppy's statement that "_thoughts can leave deeper scarring than almost anything else"_ is an almost literal quote from OotP, chapter 36. She says this to Ron Weasley, who, understandably, takes it at face value as a healers' statement on his injury. Wondering how Poppy had come to that insight, which I happen to share, was one of the inspirations for this story.

****

Minerva was smiling, Poppy noticed with relief. A happy dream, perhaps. It would be a pity to wake her. But before she had reached the bed, Minerva's eyes were wide open. 'I wasn't sleeping,' she said. 'I was just thinking. Very inappropriate thoughts for someone in my position. You came at the right time, as always, my dear.'

'And what would those thoughts be?' Poppy asked, smiling back.

'Oh, I was thinking about _that woman_. And about the gloriously colorful Weasley departure. A truly Gryffindor way to leave. But I feel that they left that portable swamp somewhat … unfinished. A bit of water life could be a real improvement. If they had started with the little particles of dust bound to be on that corridor floor, they could have transfigured them into all sorts of interesting creatures. It's very advanced transfiguration, of course, even for my N.E.W.T. students. I had just nearly convinced myself that a professor's role is to teach by example, as well as in class. That's how inappropriate my thoughts were, my dear.'

Poppy laughed. 'Indeed. I can see how it could be an inspirational learning moment for the students. And think of the joy your creations would give Hagrid. As soon as we get him back. Which we will! Oh, and, eh, what was that other thought? You might as well 'fess up' completely.'

'How did you guess? Poppy, _I'm_ the one who looks straight through rule breaking … through plotting … well, through people. _You_ are sweet, kind, and trusting, I always thought. '

'Yes, well, I trust you completely. But the students … did it ever occur to you, that the results of rule-breaking and plotting often end up in my sick ward? And that students are rather reluctant to confess their true deeds? Still, I need information, if I am to heal them. And, my darling, I always get it.'

'Yes. I can see that. I had better give in graciously, then. I was thinking about those dreadful teacups the Umbridge uses in that office of hers. With the kittens. And don't smile! It is no laughing matter. Poppy, really!'

'Can't help it,' hiccupped Poppy. 'I just remember that evening you told me about your first visit to the Cats' Asylum. Your comments still make me laugh, Min.'

'Well, at least it did some good, then. I nearly wasted a perfectly good breakfast on the spot when I first saw that place.

'However, it did make me think of another interesting little transfiguration. She takes those cups in her hands, obviously. And, equally obviously, kittens have claws. Now, to adapt a transfiguration spell, so that those cups would do roughly what a Blood Quill does … it might have been a challenging assignment for my O.W.L. students. A practical exam question, even. One gets bored with endless teapots and turtles. And there are enough cups and plates for the whole class. Such fun, to see the inmates take over the asylum!

'Oh, Poppy, sometimes I wish I were the kind of person who could just do something like that, and to hell with the consequences. I could, if the consequences were mine alone. But Umbridge would take it out on the students. Potter can't play Quidditch anymore because I kicked ass once too often. Not that he didn't deserve punishment; he behaved abominably. But this! She did it just to get at me. And succeeded brilliantly. Since then, I have hardly prodded buttock, even. Until tonight. And see where _that_ got me…

'Poppy, I can't possibly leave for St Mungo's. It gives that woman absolute control … of my students …'

Poppy smiled at the heaven-sent opportunity.

'Actually, Albus came up with an idea. He did realize that, with both of you gone, the situation might get out of hand. But there is still one other member of the Order at Hogwarts, you know. Severus just came to see me, to ask for a few moments with you. He told me that Albus wants you inform him of matters at hand, so that he can keep an eye on them while you are gone.'

'Severus? Keep an eye on _my_ students? Who guards the guardian, then?'

'Those would have been my thoughts entirely, Min. But, strangely enough, I can see it. Now.'

'What do you mean, now?'

'Severus stopped by earlier tonight. I had to offer him coffee. And you know what? I actually enjoyed the little chat we had then. He told me to tell you that he would keep an eye on your students. Before Albus had ordered him, I'm sure of that. He would have mentioned Albus otherwise. It was his own idea. And he was really rather pleasant about them. In his own icepick way, true, but still surprisingly thoughtful. Said that Neville Longbottom might be a bit accident prone and … how did he put it? … not over furnished in the brains department, but that he was a nice enough lad, and he did not want him to get into trouble.'

'Did he really? How un-Snape like. Is he losing his fine Slytherin touch?'

'Yes, I was surprised as well. But then, a lot did happen tonight. You have no idea how utterly shocked everyone was. Those first dreadful moments, when we weren't even sure that you … that you would survive … it did feel as if we were all stunned with you. Perhaps that accounts for it.'

'I must have given you all quite a scare! Anyhow, Longbottom is a case in point when it comes to Severus guarding my students. The way he treats them … They are too scared to learn anything. There's nothing wrong with Longbottom otherwise.'

'Of course, Min, if you say so. He's in your House, you know him best. So, you'll have Longbottom in your N.E.W.T.'s class, then?'

'… Poppy! What a nasty remark. You are right about tonight changing people. Usually, I'm the snarky one. I know that you can be very forceful professionally, I've seen you practically kick Albus out of your ward, when you felt that a patient needed rest. And your comments last year, when Fudge and I had that screaming row about the Dementor while Potter was in here, were … acerbic, to say the least. But now … my dear, I must have scared you to death, to cause this.'

Minerva lightly caressed Poppy's cheek, smiling almost apologetically as she did so. Poppy blinked a few times and took a deep breath. Then she smiled back.

'Well, it also changed some things for the better for me, love. You know it did. '

'And for me. Knowing how you really feel about what happened when … when I sprained that ankle … If four stunners are the price for finally knowing, I'm almost glad to pay. But that you could ever see yourself as a weakling! I've always admired you so much for the way you dealt with that awful childhood of yours. The way you simply moved on, built a career, a life with me … And I've told you, time and again, how I admire you and how much I rely on you. You must have known that!'

'Know it, yes, that I did. And, quite often, feel it, even. But there were always moments of self-doubt, moments where I was convinced that, if only you could see how I really was, if only you knew the truth, I mean… if you knew what I thought was the truth , that I was a weakling… that you would feel differently about me. Thoughts can leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, I think.

You see, people make so much of 'a mother's love'. Rightly so, of course. I mean … mostly it's right. The one thing you count on is "mummy loves you best". But as a result, when you are stuck with a mother who simply should not have had children in the first place, you do not see that as just bad luck. You see, everybody goes on about how _Mummy always loves you best_, in stories, in books, in real life. "My mummy does not love me best, what a truly awful person I must be." As a child, I couldn't put it that way, but it was how I felt.

'Now I see that she was the problem. She did not really want children. She just wanted to be Lady of the Manor. But of course, at the time, there was no choice. She was married, she was fertile, a child happened. It wouldn't have made a difference if I had been a boy, I think. I always thought that she wanted a son, but she didn't want a son either. Not as a child … I mean, as an heir, yes, but not as a son to love… or to play with… or anything …

'And it turned me into a child who was, at eighteen, insecure enough for Bella to do what she did. By the time I came to work at Hogwarts, I was changed already. You know how I reproached myself for not standing up to mum? But I just did not stand up to her with a screaming row. I mean … I'm just not a screaming row kind of person, that's not because of her … it's not … that I didn't yell at her doesn't mean that she turned me into a weakling. The point is, I did not give in to her, either, never considered it, even. I went my own way. Severed the umbilical cord my way.

'And by the time we got together, I could have resisted Bella. For years, I thought that I had needed you to change me… that you transformed … transfigured me, almost. You know, did a spell that turned me into a stronger person.

'But it wasn't like that …you were the catalyst, my love, you just brought out the real me. You see, it was there all along. I could have said "no" to Bella… but I didn't know that until I had that flashback when you fell and pushed me on the bed. That made me realize that I could say "no". I've spent hours, tonight, thinking about all this. Does it make any sense to you?'

'Yes, it does. And I feel so much better for everything you told me.'

'I wish I had told you before, that's all. But those scars ran very deep. It's the one point where I could not see my Min behind the Lion of Gryffindor.'

'Oh, that _ridiculous_ nickname. Grossly exaggerated, and worse, linguistically incorrect. _Lioness_, if anything. And they hunt in packs, you know. Did nobody ever see, did _you_ never see that I would simply not be the same person without you?'

'I do now. And I love you, more than I can tell. But I can see the point of that nickname, whether you like it or not. I'll just not use it when you're around, Puss.

Now, take a good rest at St Mungo's, let those Healers do their work, and you'll be back before you know it. Who knows, with Severus to keep an eye on things, I might even Apparate over for a quick visit.'

'Blackmail, my dear?'

'Clever you! Give Severus whatever instructions he needs; don't indulge in one of those spiky verbal duels of yours; you still need your rest. And don't bother to ask _him_ for your wand. I'll give him instructions too, before I let him in. And move over for a second.'

'Move over…?'

'Of course. Yes, just like that.' Poppy settled herself next to Minerva and, very carefully, took her in her arms. 'The place will be teeming with aurors and healers and Merlin knows who when you leave. And I need to hold you and to feel you. All of you. I couldn't possibly say goodbye with a quick peck on the cheek.'

She felt Minerva snuggle into her arms. Felt her relax more completely than she had managed all night. Poppy took a deep breath, filled her lungs with the scent of Minerva, rather than the all-pervading sick ward. She smiled when she realized that Min did exactly the same. Softly, she kissed her. 'Everything will be all right,' she whispered. 'Everything will be truly all right.'


	15. A medium, verging on small

Snape walked along the corridor of the sick ward to Minerva's room, his head full of Poppy's recommendations. Minerva was to be made cheerful, was not to be unduly exited, nor to be worried, nor to be given a wand, or a mirror, or a quill and parchment, or an object which could conceivably be transfigured in any of the above. Which, given the character of the Deputy Headmistress and her exceptional skills in all fields of Transfiguration, made the forthcoming conversation more or less mission impossible. Snape was looking forward to it. And, although he wouldn't have admitted to it under multiple cruciatus-spells, he was quite determined to make an effort.

He briefly wondered whether Madame Malkin's did a line in tartan nightgowns, then realized that Minerva could transfigure a toe rag into a tartan nightgown, should she wish for one, and that part of "making an effort" would be not to smile, if he was right.

Snape entered the room, did not smile, bade Minerva a rather formal good morning, and gave her Albus' regards. He was glad to see that she was sitting up now and that both the bun and the spectacles were firmly in place. He felt that delegating to him – of all people – would be difficult enough for Professor McGonagall without the added humiliation of looking a helpless invalid. He could suddenly understand Poppy's urgent stressing that there should be no exertion. No further exertion, she must have meant, after this little dressing-up.

'Poppy did tell you, I suppose …' he went on.

'Good morning, Severus. Yes, she did. She said that Albus wanted you … Why did he come to Hogwarts in the first place? Far too dangerous, the whole Ministry must be after him by now.'

'So they are; I've heard that Kingsley and Tonks have created quite a comic act about it. It seems that Arthur frowns when Molly is present and participates when she isn't. '

Minerva smiled with relief.

'I hope to see it soon. I haven't been to headquarters for far too long. And I gather that Albus managed to get out safely, or you wouldn't joke about it. But still…'

'Oh, he was quite all right. Well, as right as anyone who has had a long conversation with Dear Dolores. But he did a nice "Oblivio" and a truly admirable Memory Creation Charm. She is now firmly convinced that she never saw him, that it was her own idea to involve Tonks in getting you to St Mungo's, and that Albus would be firmly against that, had she consulted him. Which she is certain she didn't, of course.'

'A Memory Creation Charm? That will baffle the Ministry, it's so rarely achieved that nobody even thinks about it. But I'm glad to hear that he is well. He was here, briefly, but I was still too … stunned, would be the term, I suppose …'

'Yes, Albus said that he got off lightly.'

Minerva raised an eyebrow. Snape realized he was slipping up in the effort department.

'Well, to business,' he suggested, a little too heartily; he could hear that himself. Merlin, this helpmeet thing was heady stuff.

'Is there anything in particular I should keep an eye on?'

'One or two things, yes. First, there is Potter. Two problems, really. Well, the second one isn't very relevant, not while I'm gone, and the other one … perhaps I should ask someone else …'

Minerva looked preoccupied, and Snape realized he had fallen at the first hurdle and at the very first request she made of him, had looked … how had Albus put it, in his own, inimitable way? … as if he smelled a rotten dragon's egg. He tried to look as helpful as possible and urged her to go on. 'Two problems, you said?'

'Well, Dear Dolores has found out that a very good way to get at me is to antagonize Potter whenever possible. So, she is looking for reasons to punish him, but when I'm not here that won't be important.

'If anything, she might do him favors to irritate you,' she added sharply.

Touché, Snape thought, suppressing a grin. I deserved that one. 'And the other one?' he asked.

'Potter himself. He has landed himself several detentions for speaking out against her in class and mentioning the return of You-know-who. He doesn't seem to see reason on the subject. She is also doing his utmost to thwart his career as an Auror.'

Effort, Snape thought. Effort. Don't say that the abysmal idiot doesn't stand a snowball's chance in a cauldron to get into my N.E.W.T.'s class.

'You really must keep an eye on him, Severus, Merlin knows what the woman will stoop to … Potter is currently just too …'

In a truly heroic attempt, Snape provided 'Upright?'

He was rewarded with a look of utter astonishment. Never one for half measures, he tried 'Downright? Forthright?'

'What, in the name of Merlin's oak tree, is _wrong_ with you, Severus?' A voice that, if bottled, would put Veritaserum out of business, a piercing look from emerald-green eyes.

Instinctively, Snape sought safety in truth. 'Poppy insisted that I shouldn't irritate you in any way but keep you cheerful instead. Given the tone of our previous conversations about Potter …'

'You tried to shock me into a relapse? I suggest that you simply are yourself; four stunners in one night will do. Although there _is_ a cheerful side to your bedside manners … upright, downright, forthright … I didn't know you had it in you.'

Poppy was right, Minerva thought. Severus was slightly … well, considerably different from his usual sarcastic self. Albus must have worked a small miracle to achieve this. She smiled.

And that, my dear Minerva, was a smirk, Snape thought, as always more than willing to take offence. And to hell with effort. Anyone who is healthy enough to smirk is also healthy enough for a rational, logical analysis.

Coldly, he said 'So, if I summarize the situation correctly, Potter informed his teacher, in front of a full classroom, that she is wrong, and that he is right. Whereupon, to his everlasting astonishment, she didn't fall on her knees hailing him as a prophet and bemoaning the error of her ways, but gave him a detention instead. Potter then voiced his disappointment to you, you were probably more sympathetic than he deserved, but not as sympathetic as he expected. And now he sulks.'

And I'm in for it, he thought. Only when he heard the sudden, sharp intake of breath did he realize that Minerva had, in fact, been uncharacteristically sympathetic to a student who had defied a teacher. The stress of this year must have been appalling for that to happen, and he was not helping by pointing it out. Wishing to avoid eye contact, he looked down at the neat blanket, tucked in with Poppy's trademark sharp hospital corners. He was shocked to see that Minerva was grasping that blanket as firmly as she could, in a desperate attempt not to show trembling hands. It reminded Snape of the time he had been hit by a stunner himself. He'd had fits of shaking for hours and he a healthy man in his early twenties, at the time. How could he have thought Minerva healthy enough for anything other than a lengthy stay at St Mungo's? Because you'd rather kill yourself than give in to illness, he thought. You impossibly foolish, stubborn, fierce, courageous …

Before the silence grew too uncomfortable, he added: 'Be that as it may, I'll keep an eye on him. In fact, I'll keep him alive, if it is the last thing I do. Albus has made his instructions perfectly clear years ago. You know that. '

Did you understand a single word of what I said, Minerva wondered. On the one hand, it was a relief to see that the world as she knew it had not come to an end. On the other, more than thirty seconds of the New Snape might have been pleasant.

'Yes, of course I know that,' she snapped.

'I'll try to keep him out of trouble as well,' Snape added hastily. 'But you know what he is like … Well, let's look at it from the bright side. He almost single-handedly got rid of two Defence against the Dark Arts teachers in four years. An honorable record. One must live in hope.'

Almost in spite of herself, Minerva grinned. 'Gilderoy Lockhart,' she murmured, slightly relaxing her grip on the blanket. Did the tremors return? No, they didn't. She relaxed some more, slowly, and invisibly, she hoped. Severus' observation skills were too damn good.

Snape grinned back. 'I almost appreciated Potter then.' For about half a second, he thought. 'Anything else that needs looking after?'

'Sybill. Albus told me it's absolutely vital that she remains at Hogwarts. She must _not_ be forced out, under any circumstance.'

'I see. Quite. Yes, Albus would feel that way.'

After that one real prediction I heard her make, he thought. The prediction that caused … _Don't dwell on that, _said the little voice in his head. _Not now. Keep your wits about you. Be helpful. _

He continued. 'But he has authorized her staying on, even after the dismissal. Surely, there can be no risk? She can't give Dear Dolores any further reasons for eviction, now that she no longer teaches.'

'Yes, she can. Drunk and disorderly behavior. Sybill has an alcohol problem, Severus, you must have noticed it?'

'I tried very much _not_ to notice it during this year's sorting ceremony. It was utterly disgusting. Did you see how she put cream in her wine?'

'Did you see what she did to Irma's wine? Thank Merlin for Irma's self-control.'

'At that point, I was looking at you,' Snape grinned. 'Sybill doesn't often join us for meals, but whenever she does, you get that special look in your eyes. And the ensuing comment is usually one for the books.'

'Severus! You actually thought that, right in the middle of Dolores' shameful performance, I would discredit the Hogwarts' staff even further by drawing attention to Sybill's drunken outrage?'

'Hardly. But I must confess that there was a small, awful part of me that actually _wanted_ you to say "Tripe, Sybill?"

'What a singularly ill-chosen moment to get in touch with your inner child.'

Minerva managed a severe Deputy Headmistress look. But only just, she thought. The temptation to have … of all things … a good _gossip_ … with _Severus_ … was considerable.

'Yes, Minerva,' Snape replied, with carefully-measured meekness in his voice and an equally carefully-measured sparkle in his eye. The McGonagall Look didn't take him in for a second. Not where Sybill was concerned. Minerva barely managed to be civil about her to the students. That "Potter, if you happen to be dead tomorrow, you don't have to hand in your homework" had been the joke of the week, when Sybill had done her usual "one of you is about to die" routine in Potter's year. Even he had heard about it, when he had told Potter that he might have to sample his own, terminally burnt potion. Malfoy had sneered that it looked as if Potter would get out of the Transfiguration essay after all.

He saw the stern look turn into a sparkle, followed by a rather mischievous smile.

'A small, awful part of me is imagining what would have happened, had Sybill accepted that kind suggestion.'

Snape pictured it. Urgently, he said:

'Don't! Don't dwell on that! You're still far from well.

'And, Minerva, tell me, how do you manage? Keeping Potter under control, keeping Sybill off the bottle, as well as running the school almost single-handedly and teaching all Transfiguration classes?'

'Oh, you make it sound worse than it is. There are compensations. And it's just a matter of tackling things efficiently.'

Tackling Hogwarts efficiently? Tackling _Albus_ efficiently? More than just a name in common with a goddess, then, thought Snape. When I am Headmaster… not that I will be, of course … and you would _not_ stay on as a Deputy …how on earth I will manage…

_Not a productive line of thought, _said the little voice. _You've work to do. Stick to it. _

And it's no use seeing it as "on the job training" either, Snape thought rather morosely.

'Tell me, please, how do you tackle Sybill efficiently? I'll need all the guidance I can get on that one.'

'I usually drop in on her once or twice a week. I accio as many bottles as possible – you'll have to do that in her classroom too, especially under those sofas – and I let her rant and rave for a bit. It seems to calm her, and it tells me what I can expect in terms of sheer loopiness. Sometimes it's quite funny, really, I've had a few good laughs about it.'

With Poppy, Snape thought, feeling a flicker of jealousy. He remembered that lovely, cozy evening he had seen. Compensations, indeed.

With Poppy, Minerva thought, feeling a warm glow envelop her. I don't know how I would manage without her. She looked at Snape with a sudden feeling of pity. If you really are fully on our side, she thought, as Albus always claims, and today I can almost believe it, life must be unimaginably bleak for you. That you only "heard" of Kingsley's and Tonks' antics speaks volumes. Maybe I should make more of an effort towards you.

'Currently,' she said, 'she talks about contacts with those Beyond The Veil. She seems to think of herself as a medium.'

'Verging on small.'

They looked at each other. Suddenly, they both laughed. It helped reduce some of the awkwardness of this whole unchartered territory of almost enjoying each others' company.

'Well, I'll try to listen to Sybill with a straight face,' Snape said, settling himself more comfortably against the wall. 'Any chance of her doing anything about it?'

'Other than talk about séances and burn frankincense, you mean? Not much. Still, I don't want Dolores to hear about it. So do keep Sybill away from the World of Spirits, will you? And from the World of Cooking Sherry as well.'

As Minerva relaxed some more, snuggling into her cushions, they both grinned. I'll do my best,' said Snape. 'I'll visit. I'll accio bottles. I'll chat. Cheerfully,' he added with the quiet desperation of a man about to embark on a Staff Outing that will involve community singing.

'Thank you, Severus. I mean that. I know that Sybill can do to a conversation what it takes quite thick porridge to do to the workings of a time-turner, but it is a relief to know that you will guard her.

'And that you'll keep an eye on the rest of Hogwarts. I'm afraid the students see the Weasleys' departure as a new standard in behavior. They will try their utmost to outdo them. It might make the school quite a dangerous place. Just think of that Portable Swamp …'

'You are _so_ right. And I should have removed that swamp days ago, I do realize that. There was no need to leave everything to you.

'Severus, you should do no such thing, you …'

'Oh, come on, Minerva, I know what an expert you are at cleaning up students' messes, but you could at least credit me with some skills! I can remove a swamp as well as the next wizard.'

'Oh, you're able, Severus, just not allowed,' was the unexpected reply, delivered in her best, brittle professorial voice. 'Surely, you're aware of the latest Ministerial Decree? The staff _must_ set a good example. We can't go around removing swamps at the drop of a hat! It's the sole responsibility of our Headmistress.'

Severus smiled appreciatively and executed an elaborate, elegant, and very formal bow, murmuring: 'I stand corrected, my dear Minerva. You are right, as always.

'Now that I think of it, Albus told me how you always remind him of anything he might forget. What do you think, should my feeble endeavors at replacing you include reminding our Dear Headmistress, with all due respect of course, of that swamp? Regularly?'

'Yes, by all means. I'm very glad to see you show such … such proper feeling. Have you been to her office before?'

'No, I haven't yet had that pleasure. Heard about it, though. Why?

'Nothing. Just that it should have a Ministerial Health Warning on the door. Prepare yourself for a shock. '

'I take it you didn't bond over your mutual interest in the Felis Catus, then?'

If he mentions frilly bows and my Animagus in the same phrase, I'll hex him wandlessly into next week, Minerva thought. Poppy would be furious, though; she'd think it too much exertion. No, she wouldn't. She would understand.

Snape had the words "cute bow" quivering on his lips but restrained himself. Of all the loathsome four-letter words, "cute" is one of the worst, he thought. Enchanting though the image of our Tabby in ribbons is, she is still a patient, a colleague, and … a friend?

Instead, he said:

'I don't think I'll be able to come and see you at St Mungo's, better have one of us around here permanently, but I suppose Poppy will keep an eye on you … as her patient, I mean? If there is anything of importance, I could tell her?'

'Yes, of course. She mentioned that she would try to visit, sometimes.' Minerva hesitated briefly. Then she added: 'When I'm back, please, come round for a drink one evening. I'd love the complete story of happenings here.'

She doesn't mean that, Snape thought. She feels obliged to invite me, because I'm trying to help. However ineffectually, compared to her standards.

'Or, if you prefer, I could write you a report,' he offered reluctantly.

'Yes, well, you could hardly put in all the details about … Sybill, and … the swamp, and such things. I'd love a talk about everything that happened ...'

To her own surprise, she realized this was true. Just like Poppy, she really had liked her chat with Snape, and she did feel better for it.

'Well, if you really have time … I'd … I'd enjoy that, very much. We'll keep in touch, then. '

With a small bow and a rather large smile, he turned to leave the room. At the door, he turned back.

'Do get well soon, please! You'll find me at St Mungo's fourth floor, keeping Gilderoy company, if I have to do your workload for long.'

'Well, you could discuss Defence against the Dark Arts experiences together… Joking, Severus, joking! But I certainly mean to be back as soon as possible.'

As Severus walked back along the corridor, he decided not to disturb Poppy. She had far too much on her mind already, with Minerva's imminent departure.

Instead, he would start by doing the rounds of the castle. Check that all was in order, that the Swamp was still in place – was not cleaned up yet, he meant. Then, there would be breakfast and morning classes. The lunch break might be a good moment to check on Sybill. He briefly considered other options, such as the evening, next week, or never, and decided that lunch would be as good a moment as any.

Then afternoon classes and tea, which he was not in the habit of taking. Instead, he would helpfully and efficiently tackle the swamp-issue. He nodded approvingly at his own plans.

At the end of the day's classes, Umbridge would be rather tired, he supposed. Very tired even. Unlike Minerva or himself, she could not, after silencing a class, rely on actual teaching skills to keep them busy. Snape imagined keeping order when you have no knowledge to transmit, when the best you could manage would be a feeble "read the next chapter." It must be so difficult, he thought sententiously. I wouldn't want that job for all the Unicorn hair in Diagon Alley.

So just after classes was the perfect moment for a small act of kindness, such as reminding Umbridge of that swamp.

He would remember to tell Minerva about it when they had that drink. To show her his thoughtful, nay, make that his _caring_ side. She would appreciate that.

He smiled as he imagined the precise nature of Minerva's appreciation. He was looking forward to that evening and to Minerva's return. In fact, in his present mood, he wouldn't mind if Gryffindor won the House cup. He even wouldn't mind if Minerva celebrated her return by giving Potter and his acolytes twenty-five points each, just for carrying her bag.

'_You just say that because you know that Professor McGonagall never gives house points without a very good reason. Not even to her own House. Unlike some we could mention,' _sneered the little voice in his head. _'Next thing we know, you'll be giving Potter fifty house points, out of sheer, pathetic gratitude for that invitation.'_

'As this is Hogwarts,' Snape replied, with the icy coldness that had reduced many a little voice to tears, albeit not in his head, 'you'll never know what might happen. And I assure you that I wouldn't mind if Minerva did just that. Indeed, I wouldn't mind if she gave Potter and his friends twenty-five points each and then let Slytherins carry her bag. So put a sock in it, will you.'

In the ensuing silence, enjoying his uninterrupted thoughts on the pleasures ahead, he purposefully strode towards his House.


	16. Gravity strikes again

**A/N** There was one little loose end left, and I could not give my dear reviewers cause to complain about another mean cliffhanger. No pun intended.

For the last time in this story, all characters and the locations they live in belong to JKR. With the exception of Peter Henderson and Bill Doulton, who are mine. The idea for this chapter, too, came to me when reading Headmistress X's _Ancient Magic._

Finally, all credit for increasingly correct language should go to Kelly Chambliss. She is to grammar and punctuation what McGonagall is to Transfiguration. Only much more patient with her student.

*-*-*-*-*

_From chapter 11:_

'_And Bella did that to you? Telling you that you were … upsetting you so, making you ask for …' Slowly, Minerva's voice became stronger. 'That criminal… that despicable, that … I'll kill her for this!'_

'_You will __not__. You will not even get angry. It is bad for you. Relax, that is an __order__.'_

_Slowly, Minerva relaxed. Poppy is right, she realized. I'm still as weak as a baby and shaking all the time. I must keep very calm and get well soon. Get back here soon. Now that that __abomination __has escaped … I must keep that anger for later. And find a safe way to let it out, not kill that __thing__ in cold blood. She deserves it, but as things are, it would land me in Azkaban before you could say 'unforgivable curse'._

-*-*-*

'Of course, that boulder fell down the cliff,' the old man said testily. 'They do, you know, it's called "gravity".'

Bill Doulton suppressed a sigh. Peter Henderson, retired science teacher and, so far, sole witness of "The Boulder Incident", made him feel like a rather obtuse first former. To add insult to injury, he did so while sipping a beer he, Bill, had bought him.

Bill looked round the taproom of The Beachy Head Arms. Brightly colored carpet, too much gleaming copper, faded, carefully framed newspaper clippings of previous Beachy Head incidents, pub food that aimed at, but did not reach, gastro-pub status. The very last place where one would expect to find William Doulton, journalist/investigator, admired by all, feared by many. Unfortunately, Doulton the journalist/investigator had never fully materialized. Instead there was just plain Bill, senior journalist on the local rag. "Senior" meant he was responsible for the lanky youth who wrote the sports page and who had buried his fifth granny during last month's Test Match.

He looked back at Henderson. A good teacher in his time; he could see that. Still had everything it took. Except an actual classroom, but try telling that to an ex-teacher, Bill thought wryly. 'What you mean, Sir,' he started.

'What I mean, is that the surprising part is not a boulder falling _down_ the cliff end. It's the boulder _soaring_ _up_ towards it, over a considerable stretch of grassy hill. For that is what it did, as I've spent the best part of an hour explaining.'

'But, surely, that is a most unlikely phenomenon. Is there no possibility that you … I mean … there was quite a fog, this morning, and … ' Bill's voice faltered under the piercing stare.

'Of course it's an unlikely phenomenon, why would I bother to inform the paper otherwise? Use your wits, young man. And if you do not believe me, find the other witness.'

'So, there was another witness?' Please no, Bill thought, don't make me trail another OAP who wants his five minutes of fame.

'Yes, there was,' Henderson replied, somewhat mollified at Bill's show of interest. 'An elderly lady. Frail, dressed in black, had a walking stick for support. Tartan scarf, if I recall correctly, but I cannot be quite certain about that. She was some distance away, more or less at the bottom of the hill. Would be, of course, if she needs a walking stick, couldn't possibly climb up. She saw everything too, I'm certain of it. Not that she will be able to explain it, any more than I can,' he added, grudgingly. 'It looked like witchcraft, I tell you, pure witchcraft.'

But the elderly lady in black with the walking stick was never found. To Bill's credit, it must be said that he did make an attempt, albeit a feeble one. Henderson's quote on witchcraft, however, made the headlines of The Beachy Head Crier. It earned Henderson a reputation as a "quaint old character" which was totally undeserved, but which bought him drinks for months.

**A/N** I have considered a sequel, set during book six. Would you like to read it? Then please press the button. A simple 'yes' or 'no' would be helpful, anything more really makes my day.


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